When I Learn to Fly
by Vindicated
Summary: As always, I have strong women doing outrageous things in my stories. And Angus is really ticked that he has to put up with it.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own MK. Don't want to. I just want the show back. Is that so much to ask?

Note: I was insane while writing this. Now, I don't mean, "oh, my God, those vertical blinds look tacky on horizontal window panes." No, I mean, "Your honor, we find the defendent guilty of being criminally insane." There's just too much I want to say but if you read this story, I probably won't have to do too much talking...to the sane. I may end up talking to a wall soon; that's where I get my best inspiration from. Oh, well, there was one thing I should mention. Sam, my chicka, is "loosely" based on _Constantine. _I should just put that out there so no one's anticipating Keanu to come stalking out of the woodwork.

Anyway, here's a dose of something not right.

Chapter 1

**CHILD'S PLAY:**

A swift spring breeze coasted along the rocky coastline. It whispered something and echoed until it parted Sam's hair from her face. She breathed it in and let it out in a long, slow sigh.

Marock looked up from under her boot heel, eyes pleading, mouth running a mock. "No," he said. Her head cocked to the side while her finger clicked off the safety. Her foot dug under his chin and pushed even further. "No…. I'm being followed."

"You'll get to where you need to be," she said in her usual rasp. "But first, I have to know something."

He glanced down at the shaft of the pistol. "Don't even bother," he said. "The Daemons are coming. You don't have much time."

"You didn't give me that option," she said. Sam cocked her head, all pity and remorse lacking from her twitching smile. "What's in Kells?"

He pursed his lips.

She aimed the pistol up to his head and he followed it with his eyes. His arms could have snatched it easily. He just wasn't that type of Guardian, especially when Sam was holding the gun. He sighed. "There's nothing in Kells. It's the kingdom right next to it that's resonating evil."

"You'll have to fill me in. I'm a little behind on my history."

Marock said, "The castle is Temra. That's where Knox should be."

"Knox?" Sam frowned. "Why is he there? I thought you said he got himself busy running errands for his master?"

His face read a stiff determination to keep whatever emotions were coursing through him – embarrassment, hysteria, anger, just to name a few – and his forehead seemed ready to burst. It was with a fearless gaunt expression in which he clenched his jaw that kept him rigid, sane, even safe, for the shaft of the gun was just touching his chin, playing with the idea of going off in his face. He answered, though he kept digging his nails into the ground, tearing up the dirt. "I led him there. I didn't realize that he would know where to find the Pixie Compounds until you showed me that scroll. But as for the kingdom itself, it's run rampant with His influence."

"How many sentinels are guarding it?"

"At least fifty, sixty-thousand."

Sam raised her brow. Sixty thousand was one of the largest collective of sentinels residing in one place. It was also an indication that this kingdom of Temra could house the Headquarters. Finally, after twenty years of fulfilling this dark purpose, she had found the center, the so-called heart of the sentinel's connection between the mortal and immortal planes. If it were destroyed, if Temra was the Headquarters, it would leave just a scattered remain of sentinels roaming along the parallel universes and Sam would have the upper hand. However, Marock was a sentinel. It was always disturbing that he had been leading her to the miscellaneous outposts of his own kind, to tell her where it was she was supposed to send those damnable creatures back to their Divine Gates, and what's more, he never told her why. She had assumed once long ago that he had been just as vengeful as Lucifer had been; but revenge against whom?

She glanced around. Dusk was approaching quickly. "You don't have much time. What say both you and I meet elsewhere…like Kells."

"I'll have Ona take you. I can't." He glanced at her boot.

She did not relent, however. "You can go when I say you can. Now, before I do that, tell me, are there dragons in this place I'm going for my next mission?"

Marock slid a smile across his face. "You'll just have to find out when you get there." He paused, his smile fading. "Gabriel wishes you luck."

"I need no luck."

Marock groaned, understanding the statement implied though not said. "You just have no respect for the man. You've seen Him, you know where He lives and yet you still can't recognize Him in ordinary conversation."

"You act as though that renegade was God Himself," she chided. "It's been a long year," she said. "By the sound of it, we're going to have an even longer year."

"Yes…we are," said Marock.

She blinked down at him. "Who's following you?"

"Just some ticked demons," he shrugged.

"I thought you said 'Daemons,' as in Azreal and his posse." She lowered the gun towards his chest.

He breathed. "You can be sinfully intoxicating." He closed his eyes, feeling a hardness erupting in his temples, an anger blending with frustrating temptation that tossed and turned his insides.

Seeing that emotional damage had been done, Sam was persuaded to do more unto him. Because he deserved it. She stroked his humanized face with her finger, tracing an impenetrable line over his forehead. The pentagram seared as though it had been burned into his flesh. He groaned, gripping the ground with tremendous force and sending nearby rock formations to crumble. The crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean could be heard slapping up higher the rocky slope. Thick, black clouds darkened over the sea, heading towards the cliff's edge where they were. She deftly pulled her hand away. Leaning on her other leg, Sam hung her other hand over that leg and proceeded to glance over the brawny sentinel, a rising desire promulgating from head to toe. "I need to go home first," she said. "I forgot to grab something on my way out."

The sun's crest fell just below the western horizon and the man under her vanished, sending slimy green residue all over the ground where he once had lain.

Sam stood over the empty spot and bit her cheek. One last glace over the dark horizon brought a sense of nostalgia and as quickly as it came, she made it vanish, just like Marock. "Good luck," she sighed.

She kneeled down and dug her knees into the slime-drenched Earth, the presence of evil reigning all around her. She twitched and scratched her head, not able to be rid of that unease after falling to Hell and coming back again. More than anything, she wanted to lie down and let Fate decide where her soul should be put to rest. It didn't matter to her that God shunned her and Lucifer's talons were scraping through eons of dimensions to have her soul but it did matter that she would be sent to Hell on false accusations, accusations that were made by a sentinel, a guardian of the gateways to Hell and Heaven. That she had sworn a vow to: find the accuser. Still, in her search she had not found the sentinel who robbed her of a chance to prove her innocence.

"For Christ's sake," she moaned. "I'm only human."

"A human with wings? Who's so daft to believe that nonsense?"

"Hello, Ona," said Sam, glaring at the ground. She twitched as her back ached. 'Another sentinel,' she snarled.

"Feeling touchy today? Well, I'm not surprised. How long did you have them out for this time? Well, let's see. It must have been at least four, maybe even five and a half hours."

"Go curse yourself," Sam said. She stood and turned to look out over the town of blinking lights, alone, unburdened by anything, even the approaching storm, which threatened total annihilation. No one ever feared a storm here. All of the families came from a long family line of tortured villagers and plagued workers since the middle ages. In essence, they had more to fear than Mother Nature itself. Sam began to walk towards the town.

"But where are you going?"

"Having a drink. Is that a sin?" Sam stopped, slid her gun into its holster strapped to her thigh and dusted her pants.

Ona smiled. "You're a tease. I can't smite you. Only angels have that kind of skill, but it was sweet of you to think of me so highly."

Sam rolled her eyes. "The feeling's mutual."

She continued walking down the glen down the side of a green hillside when Ona jumped in front of her. "How 'bout a game before we leave? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

However, Sam kept trudging down the hill, eyes fixed at the town's sleepy lights meters before her. She thought of what she needed and smiled.

"Oh, c'mon. You know it won't hurt."

"I am much too tired for this," sighed Sam. "The last time we played one of your games, Ona, it was a contest to see who could save the most civilians from being cast to the ground from the top of a building…in the time allotted. Need I remind you the temperament from your management that day?"

"They know me," she shrugged. "Besides, it wasn't like I was really condemning those poor saps to an early Fate. After all, I don't have that power either. Grim Reaper does and when have you seen him around here lately? Not since the days of the plague, I suspect. Oh, except for that one time Mr. Granger dozed off with too much morphine injections in his arm. Forgive me, I know not what I do."

"You're more of a menace to mortals than the actual devil Himself…and will you please keep your feet to the ground, Peter Pan. We don't want the grown-ups to see you." Sam twitched.

Ignoring Sam's plea, Ona jumped around in the air. "You still can't shake it, can you? The grudge? Ah, well, I suppose mortals have that drawback."

Sam paused in her step and closed her eyes. "What do you want?"

"I told you." Ona fluttered around Sam.

"A game?"

Ona nodded.

Shaking her head, Sam continued walking. "You're such a child."

"What? Can't a lonely sprite have it's kicks with the living every once in awhile, 'specially since I can't get any kicks whatsoever in my lower regions. I mean, look at me," she said, grabbing her belt and glaring down at her humanized body. "I'm a walking time bomb and I can't even detonate myself when I need to."

Sam cringed. "Stop, stop, just stop."

"Well it's true."

Minutes later, Sam was walking up the steps to her flat and came back outside an hour afterward, dressed differently in simple dark blue jeans and a thin vest. Ona was standing just outside the door, wings absent, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. When she stepped outside, Sam zipped up the vest all the way to the top, threw on a black suit jacket and strolled right past the sentinel.

"We'll go back up the hill but down a little towards the wooded area. I don't want anyone to see us," said Sam.

Ona shrugged and followed.

At the top of the hill, Ona asked, "Can I come this time or are you just gonna punch me in the face again if I do?"

Sam thought. It never really mattered if the impish sentinel followed or not; however, there were always pros and cons to not having Ona around. Pro: undisturbed concentration. Con: not getting home for six months while being trapped on a parallel universe.

Sam shrugged. "Teleport me or just go home."

"Why?"

"Because I told you to."

"Why?"

"You're a simple creature with no hope of having a future so just do what I tell you and leave me alone."

"But I can still come right?"

Sam turned and faced Ona. She looked the she-creature dead in the eye. "It's always been your choice."

Ona frowned. "But…all those other times, you…."

"To where I'm going, Ona," interrupted Sam. "I need all the friends I can get."

The air suddenly seemed chilled and Sam's elevated sense of hearing could pick up the sounds of all the night animals scurrying in the nearby forests. Everything seemed to echo around her. She raised her ears as though attempting to pick up all the vibrations of catcalls and hooting owls.

Ona was smiling.

Sam sighed just as she felt her body jerk. Every fiber of her being seemed to pull apart and crash back together simultaneously while there was an organic energy source ripping her cells in two. She felt smaller, somehow, almost as though she had been shrinking but the feeling did not last much longer. By instinct, she closed her eyes, feeling herself grow taller, wider, heavier, weighed down by gravity. Fortunately, there was gravity. She wanted to talk but she could not feel her body. If she could look down, she would find that she had no body. But just as the ripping and the tearing seemed to reach its climax, Sam could begin to feel herself again. Still closing her eyes tight, Sam waited for the feeling to evaporate before she began to register that she was on solid ground, breathing air and hearing the sounds of creatures in the nighttime. She was here, home. But it wasn't home. It was her home a thousand years ago in another universe.

Sam, cautiously breathing, began to ease open her eyes and the rays of the morning sun felt new to her eyes. It burned them, stung them until her irises remembered to widen to let in all of the light. A few seconds travel across the dimensions was harrowing enough, but to have done this already many times before, the ware on her body was starting to take more of an effect. Where at first the feeling would rub away within seconds of arriving to her destination, now Sam felt as though she been whirled around in a revolving chair many hundreds of times.

She blinked, her body seeming like that of a newborn's and just as uncertain of the natural elements encasing her. An insect was touching her hand and she jumped, despite herself. Shaking it off, she sat up slowly, which all the same had caused an involuntary reaction in her system. She barely fell to her side just as she began vomiting.

An hour had passed by before she could stand on her feet.

"Ew," said a childish voice behind her. "You're acting human again."

Sam closed her eyes. The stench of her own bile sickened her again and she threw herself away, tumbling and grabbing the grass to keep from falling off of the earth. She gasped. "What year is it?" She asked in an attempt to keep her mind off of other things.

"Um…I think it's around 1348 A.D."

"Thanks," Sam said. She sat on her knees, inhaling and exhaling methodically. The sound of the ocean waves resonated above the cliffs and soothing though it was, Sam was on her feet as soon as she steadied her mind.

She cast a widespread glance across the distance. Once again she had been thrown across eons of time and was at a home that was totally different from anything else. She stood back. "There are trees."

"Humans haven't started the Industrial Revolution just yet."

"Be careful, Ona," Sam said. "You may know more about humans than I do." Her back was to Ona. She felt the inside of her mouth and spat out the disgusting taste.

"We're on a tight schedule," Ona said. She perked up. "D'you wanna see what your town looks like now? Oh, I love that game."

Sighing heavily meant one of two things to Ona. The first, and always assumed, was that Sam was a little angry and temperamental, as though awakened an hour before the alarm went off in the morning. The second, and prevented at all costs, was that Sam had been driven so far so quickly, she would not know what she would do for the next few days. "Rage is definitely not easily noticeable on you," said Ona.

"And diarrhea mouth seems to be your one virtue."

"Sorry. Was I speaking before thinking?"

"Is that a trick question?" Sam looked around her, noticed tiredly that the sleepy town that had once been was now absent. Trees shot out everywhere over the vast landscape. Her home was miles to the east and presumably empty. She shook her head, placed two arms on her hips and said, "You wouldn't suppose that there's a town entirely composed of just a pub and some inns at this time?"

"Why? Wanna make comradeship amongst the natives?"

"I wanna drink. I'm arid."

"Water?"

"I was thinking alcohol." Sam began to stroll down the glen as she had not more than two hours earlier towards the forests.

Ona, still hovering, lowered down to speak over Sam's shoulder. "And just how are you going to find a residential village around here without your wings? And look at you!"

Sam stopped dead in her tracks. At her sides, she was flexing her fists into tight balls and relaxing. "What?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Not even the proper attire you have on ya!"

"Well," Sam shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it? God, you are by far the worst time-traveling sentinel I've ever met in my life," Sam grumbled as she strode off down the hillside. "Marock wouldn't complain half as much as you."

"He could care less."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," said Sam.

Ona remained silent for the remaining walk. However, as soon as Sam reached the skirt of the forest, where there was just a hint of negative energy feeding out into the land, as both Sam and Ona felt shivers running up and down their spines, Ona said, "I'm not the worst you've ever met. You haven't met us all." Though her face was innocent enough, she was serious and Sam recognized real fear in the sentinel's tone when she addressed her. "My only intention was to get you here. But it's not just a game anymore. You're heading towards some serious danger," Ona said with her eyes full of saddened truth. "I know you don't need it, but I'm going to help you in any way that I can."

"How generous of you," said Sam, not a trace of pity or anything else resembling emotion touching her face.

After a brief pause, Ona said, "There's a village that's only about twenty miles due east from here. The village is on the outskirts of a kingdom ruled by a man known as Chonchobar."

"That kingdom wouldn't happen to be the same one with all the bad guys now would it be?"

Ona shook her head. "No, that's Temra. This is Kells."

Sam blinked. "So, what is he, good, bad? Do I have to address him as 'sir' or do I walk right up to his door and ring the bell?"

Ona smiled. "They don't have bells, dingbat."

"I know." Sam looked away into the forest. "Twenty miles east, eh? Nah, not bad at all."

"Ya sure?"

" 'Tis ne'er a lad o lassie to bring down this rovin'." Sam stepped into the forest and felt an immediate shock run through her body. She shivered but did not stop. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "Please, be courteous. Don't introduce yourself to the mortals until I get there."

"We could just fly, you know," Ona whined.

"Nah," Sam said from within the tangling branches surrounding her. "It's just a forest."

"An enchanted forest."

"Same thing." And then, she had disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2

**TO THE RESCUE, ST. JIMMY:**

By the time the fire began, Angus had been scratching at a dented coin with a sharp pick for the better half of an hour. It wasn't his lucky coin, which had its special location in an undisclosed pouch on his person. This coin had no significance to it other than that it was pure gold, of which Angus was completely certain. Years of thrift and gallant pick pocketing gave him the experience; however, what he had lacked in all that time was basic common sense as his entire mind had either been corrupted by gold or, if the occasion called for it, women. As a result of this, he had been daft to notice stray logs were beginning to catch on flames but as soon as he felt the heat resonating too close to his leather pouch, he jumped, emitting a short yelp of surprise.

"Forgot to watch the fire again, Angus?" asked Rohan, a tall, ruggedly handsome man who seemed to resonate fire from within his own body.

"No," said a demur Angus as he attempted to bat out the hot ashes on his pouch. Sucking his burned finger, he picked up the dropped coin and resumed examining it with his naked eye. A chunk of his black hair fell over his eyes, though he seemed not deterred.

Rohan smiled, which made his entire frame expand to the width of his cheeks. This glowing effect had a rather profound entrapment for several maidens washing the laundry nearby. They giggled and talked foolishly of their infatuations. Rohan knew it was happening, though neither did he ignore it nor implore it. It was after all to be expected since he was a warrior. To the maidens, he was like a god; however, by his own right, he was only on a quest to search for the warrior Draganta. It was the kingdom that had turned him as well as his friends into illustrious beings to ever roam Tir Na Nog. Unfortunately, for some reason, the females tended to flock to him once the day started and though he did not wish to offend, he hoped that his friend Angus, a veteran thief by reputation but a knight by honor, would shoulder some of the attention every once in a while. He had, on occasion, "shouldered" a burden or two, sometimes at once, but Rohan had never doubted that Angus was saving himself for any one person in particular. That was just the way of the independent thief.

Angus, however, was too caught up in his current excursion of trinkets from some nether lands to comprehend all else happening around him, including the gawking maidens. It was a certain exception to Angus's otherwise determination to seek fame amongst the kingdom of Kells and attraction to some of the fairest maidens lining the hillside. This concerned Rohan and his smile faded. Oddly enough, the giggling diminished and all was quiet again. The fire burned steadily in its encasement on the ground and the village worked as usual. Rohan frowned, "What's that you got there? Another stolen treasure?"

Of course, Angus did not respond right away. He stared and stared at the markings made so delicately on the small coin but it did not seem to bring him any closer to discovery. "I just wish I could figure out what these…bloody symbols mean," he grumbled.

"It will take more than a fair share of looking at it to read what it says." Rohan picked up his gold ringlet chain mail and put it over his brown fur-lined vest. "Where did you find that anyway?"

Angus did not answer. Rohan prodded him. "Oh," he said, startled. "Yeah, I think it was from one of the traveling gypsies."

Rohan took a seat next to Angus on the tree log laid out across the ground in a seating fashion. "You do know what happened to Garrett after he had attempted to ambush the gypsy guards who were sleeping," he said with a concerned brow.

Angus shrugged and continued looking at the coin.

This only concerned Rohan even further. To admit to his thievery was one thing, thought Rohan, as it always came as an insult to Angus when anyone questioned his trustworthiness. However, rebuffing the chance to smother Prince Garrett in a torrent of jests and scoffs after he had given Angus clear ground to do so was enough to convince Rohan of something more than unusual in his friend's behavior.

Just then, however, Ivar, the wisdom-graced prince of the Moors, came to join them at their campground. As always, he carried a trident, as blue as the ocean, which also reflected the cloths he chose to wear, as a sign of his trademark calm with which he approached all situations. However, today, he seemed more inclined to be jovial and leaning upon his trident with his back straight, Ivar glared down upon Angus with the up most joy. "My, my, Angus, playing with our toys again I see. Care to put that trinket away and join the men for a change?"

When Angus did not respond straight away, Rohan sheepishly grinned and said, "I think it will take a lot more than attacking his ego to rouse him today."

Ivar nodded to himself. "Very well. As you like it, sir," he added with a fiery conviction. "I have the strangest feeling he will come to his senses as soon as he realizes what is in store for all of us today."

"Why? What has happened?" asked Rohan.

Ivar shrugged. "You can ask the king himself. He has been more than willing to answer all questions directed at him, especially those concerning the Queen of Temra and her steadily rising battlefronts."

"Oh," Rohan sighed. News of Temra's rising forces had already reached the kingdom of Kells days before but as much as it was a concern, Temra was not as a formidable foe for the five knights defending Kells. As far as the country was concerned, these knights were virtually unstoppable. But, despite himself, Rohan frowned. "Why? Who has been asking?"

"The villagers," said Ivar, sweeping his arm in one motion. "It seems the good show of bravado on the cattle herder a month ago has given these people a new spirit of courage."

Rohan blinked. "But was it not the herder who had blackmailed Conchobar in the first place?"

"Do you think the king would risk his crown by exposing his neck?" asked Ivar. He smiled briefly, patting Angus on the shoulder. "But not to worry. Queen Maeve will presumably throw another beast our way, in which case we will have to perform our civil duties and once again be in the good graces of every villager in the kingdom." Ivar shook his head, as his grim irony passed for cheap humor.

Grinning, Rohan said, "Someone put you in a good mood this morning. Who was it?"

However, Ivar shrugged. "I have no idea what you are talking about, my friend." He paused, glancing out at the horizon. "Well, now that I've delivered my message, I shall be on my way to see a man about a dog. Take care now."

As he left, Rohan looked after and shaking his head said, "That man is as strange as the place he hails from. Nice…but strange."

"I don't know," said Angus. "I understood him quite well."

Rohan cocked his head. "Oh yeah? You might," he muttered.

Angus nodded. "Yeah. With the new wave of Maeve's infantrymen coming in, the king's got a lot more on his royal plate than the absent-minded pressures of his people. There's a lot more in-depth stuff that I could get into but you would just feel stupid and then I would have to stop myself to laugh." He glanced at his friend.

Rohan's eyes were wide. "Have I changed worlds? Ivar's as jovial as a jester and you're as philosophical as…well, Ivar." Rohan caught himself and frowned. "Hey, wait a minute. This is Maeve's doing, isn't it?"

Angus shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Hm. Funny, though, isn't it?"

Before Rohan could agree or nod his head, there was a loud scream and a herd of cattle ran through the village, obviously very spooked. Both he and Angus shot up and glanced at each other. "Which way did Ivar say he was going?" asked Rohan.

"That way," Angus said, pointing in the opposite direction. "But I don't think it was about a dog."

Rolling his eyes, Rohan breathed. "No." It was mild and full of cynicism.

Angus shrugged. " 'Was just saying."

A middle-aged man with a line of blood drawing down his face was limping towards them, panting and in pain. He winced as he approached their campsite and nearly fell; however, Angus pulled the man to his feet. "What is it, sir? What's happened to you?" he asked.

The man quivered. "Oh, aye, 'twas the most damnable thing I'd ever did see. Not even the Devil Himself could have imagined such things."

At once, Angus and Rohan shared a look that seemed to say, "Maeve."

"Do you live nearby, sir?" asked Rohan.

"Aye. But you'd be damned if you think I'd be going to a hovel of twigs for protection. I'm headed for the castle." Then, miraculously, the aged, hurting man began limping then broke into a hindered run towards the castle.

Angus sighed. "When I grow up, I wanna be just like him."

"It'll be a long time before you grow up," said Rohan as he began running towards the creature.

"Ah," said Angus, picking up his mace. "Should've seen that one coming." He ran after Rohan, a grim look on his stony face.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

**PRETTY MUCH NEIGHBORS:**

After spending the entire day and night poking through a forest, familiar though denser still, Sam eventually came upon a path. It led her through the thinner areas until dawn. Yawning, she was just about to find shelter when she saw an enormous shadow looming in front of her. Instinctively, she turned around but no one was there. The shadow was in front of her. Two shadows stuck out of the main bulk of the shadow, which Sam understood to be arms on a decisively larger opponent. The shadow as a whole grew larger as Sam heard breaking limbs on trees and a thunderous crashing in front of her where there was a bend in the road. Quickly, she began thinking of where to immerse herself in. On either side of her, there were thick pines protecting the path. She turned back and ran forwards and just as the shadow disappeared in her line of vision, she lost herself in the densely shrouded pines to her right. She gulped a huge breath and slowed down her tremulous heart beating to a bare minimum. The first being she had encountered in this parallel universe and it was a monster. It was no coincidence.

Ona, however, was nowhere to be found.

'Hm, interesting,' thought Sam, raising her brow. She twitched. The shadow grew, inching closer to where she hid. Whatever it was, it was fast, though Sam had begun climbing the tree in order to get some height on the creature. It was mere feet below her, its head just grazing the branch below her dangling feet. Fortunately, it did not look up, or it was just too stupid to. It paused, sniffing the air and then continued walking forward. At this point, Sam knew it could be no less than seven feet tall. It's breathing was heavy, even as it traveled farther away. It was not a sentinel.

When a minute had passed and the creature was a good distance along the path, Sam crawled down the tree's trunk until she could peer out onto the path. She looked around. There was enough light to show that marks had been made in the dirt road, large circular impressions, like hooves. Sam frowned. Sentinels, in their true form, had hooves. Yet they were never this enormous…or lame. They were bred from the finest specimens of Divinity, alongside the angels. One would not just be so horribly forged. At least, so Sam had believed.

"It's an ogre, I think," said Ona.

Sam twitched. After seventeen years, she was used to Ona's sudden reappearances as well as the sneaking and surprise visitations. "No, it's most likely a troll." Sam walked on the path, following the trail of hoof prints.

Ona cocked her head. "I'm sorry, but how do you know what a troll"

"I don't," said Sam to finalize the conversation.

There was a long pause between the two of them, sentinel and human, as they continued following the path. It had seemed a long time before Ona started to chuckle to herself. Then, the chuckling had grown into fits of massive giggles. She buried her face in her hands. Then, she jumped into the air with her brown feathery wings slapping the air maniacally. She grabbed her stomach and doubled over in the air.

After minutes of this, Sam stopped in her tracks. She glanced up at Ona, her hands on her hips. "What?"

Ona clapped her hands together. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

Indignantly, Sam said, "What?"

"You have no idea what it is we're chasing after and that kills you."

Ona's eyes were narrowed and gleamed with criticism. Sassy criticism.

"I'm only human," shrugged Sam. She continued walking, the sounds of the forest erupting in rhythmic time. Suddenly, the sounds stopped. Sam eased up and glanced around. Then, she saw smoke billowing out over the canopy. "Hey Ona, what's that phrase I'm thinking of?"

"Well," Ona shrugged. Then, it hit her. "Where there's smoke, there's fire?"

"And where there's fire, there's people," muttered Sam. She ran. Ona, however, blinked and said, more to herself, "Do you know, you have the strangest appreciation for the human species I have ever seen. And why must you always run?" But Sam was already in the dense forest, trailing after the creature. Ona spread her eagle-like wings and shot out above the trees. "Surely, this should be a good laugh," she said.

Sam was well hidden behind the thickly settled trees as she approached a clearing and the obvious smell of sulfur. She narrowed her eyes. 'Sulfur?' she thought. Her heartbeat increased, as it always did when she knew sentinels were near…or worse. She crept to a tree closest to the clearing. In the middle was an enormous fire cackling and a nearby cabin made of logs was ripped apart. However, there were no people…unless of course they had been devoured.

Sam stood still. Her eyes unfocused and she began to feel rather than think of the sentinels.

A piercing scream snapped her to attention. She ran back towards the path and ran for several minutes until she came to a fork in the road. A buggy had been flipped over and the horses presumably ran off into the woods. A jug of wine was cracked and the contents were gushing out all over the road. However, besides the unsettling scene, all was quiet. "Okay," she breathed. "Now, where did you go?"

Another scream jolted her. "Great," she said. 'If this keeps up….' However, her thoughts trailed off as she ran down the right side of the road. The hoof prints she had been tracking were large, muddy and in some spots, blood had caked the impressions.

"You know, for a big fella, he can book it," said Ona, hovering over Sam. After a long silence, Ona said, "Aren't you going to whip out those wings of yours now? You're overdue."

"You disturb me. Go away before anyone else gets disturbed by the both of us."

Ona stifled a laugh. "And who do you think would be here to gawk at us anyway?"

Sam stared up at Ona with a cold, dead stare not fit for a human. She said, "Don't follow me."

Ona nodded.

With an annoying sentinel dangling in the air in confusion left behind her, Sam continued to follow the tracks until she came upon a steep decline at the edge of the road, which led to a barren gulley, full of nothing but rocks and grass.

She turned and had noticed that shrubs had been pushed back and branches were snapped, underneath which were more tracks. This path went off the main road and circled the gulley, although it was not really a path at all. It just had appeared so after the creature had stomped through it. "Thankfully, he's subtle." After a few minutes' walk, she saw a large clearing up ahead.

From behind a rather large pine at the edge of the forest, Sam peered at the scene. Three knights each wore armor that was distinctive, unique in both shape and color. Closest to her, there was a knight in blue armor, reminiscent of the Atlantic Ocean. His back was to her but she could see the trident he used to arm himself with.

Then, she glanced up at the creature and did a double take. That creature, she noted by its distinctive brown, feathery wings, _was_, unfortunately a sentinel. However, it was the only characteristic that could clearly define it as such.

The blue knight aimed his trident and a shockingly blue electrical jet streamed out from the narrow tips. The sentinel shook, vibrating furiously…but he didn't falter. If anything, he grew more enraged and began to swing his enormous arms around miscellaneously, causing the knights to dive out of the way.

With one swing, a knight in white armor had been chucked a good meter away, his back landing on a rock mound. He yelped.

"Angus!" shouted the knight in blue.

The knight called Angus waved his hand. "It's okay. This rock…broke my fall." Then he muttered something inaudible to Sam. He seemed to struggle getting up and when he walked, he staggered, a little uneasy on his feet. However, when a boulder-sized hand came flying his way, he immediately ducked, reorienting himself in the fight. He turned to his side; his knees slightly bent and in his right hand gripped the handle of a mace, which he swung around, sending small boulders crashing into the sentinel's back that seemed to appear out of nothingness. Sam frowned. "Kay," she said. "That's interesting."

Suddenly, a third knight appeared, all in red, wielding a broad sword as gallantly as any knight out of folklore and mysticism. However, as he came to strike, the jet emitting from the trident was knocked by the sentinel's wings and slammed the red knight full in the chest. He shook for an instant and then unceremoniously fell backwards. Other than the subtle twitch or two, he remained still.

"Rohan!" shouted Angus. "Ivar, you bloody idiot! Can't you keep a grip on that thing?"

"Not now Angus," said Ivar firmly. "It's not like this is the first time he's been hit by one of our weapons."

"You've practically killed him!"

"Not now, you impish boy! We need to pay attention. Whatever it is, our weapons can't stop it. We need a plan."

"Like how to avoid getting hit by one of your trident blasts?"

"No," Ivar said. "Like falling back and leading it away from the village."

As they quarreled, Sam had already emerged from the forest, but the remaining knights were too concentrated on their random firing and constant bickering to pay any heed. She walked over to the fallen knight. Standing over him, she glanced at his armor. More intricate designs in the shape of dragons were etched in gold. The contrast was quite brilliant, even for armor. 'He must be rich,' she thought. The knights behind her shouted and she turned but they were still obstructed from her view by the sentinel's massive width. "God, he's like a house," she sighed.

The knight on the ground stirred. He groaned, blinked open his eyes and when he pulled focus, he looked up at Sam and frowned. "Uh, hello," he groaned. "Who are you?"

"A friend," she said, holding out her hand. Her real intent was information; however, as she had realized while starting her journey, it was always better to make friends with the people who had weapons. And these knights certainly didn't possess conventional weaponry. "You're Rohan?" she asked on a more personal note.

The knight took her by the forearm and she hoisted him up to his feet, as though it was no real effort at all. "Yes," he said, stunned. "How did you know…?"

"I've been watching you and your friends." She turned to face the other two knights battling the sentinel, now a considerable distance away. "You all look like you could use a hand."

Rohan looked down at her as she spoke. He was at least a foot taller and a majority of his bulk went to muscle strength. Underneath the simple fabrics she was wearing, which seemed very foreign in design, he doubted what strength she had. Although, he had been proven wrong on occasion, especially with the Princess Deidre. He frowned. "I'm sorry, milady, but it's taken the three of us and we still can't bring him down."

There was a brief pause. "You sound as though you've done serious battle before."

"Oh yes," he said. "You could say that again. I mean, ogres and…and an odd assortment of monsters we've had to contend with but even just with one of us we would have the advantage." As he spoke, he looked her over, attempting to determine what manner of clothing she wore. He sighed. "I wouldn't advise going up against that thing…without armor or at least a weapon. By the way, are you carrying anything?" he looked her over to find a concealed weapon.

"Nothing you would find useful," she said, crossing her arms. "But thanks for the advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, sir Rohan, I've got some work to do."

With that she strode off but not without being hounded by Rohan. "Wait!" he said. "You're not actually serious?"

She whipped her head around, her short hair bouncing along with her. "Well, of course I'm serious," she said. Then, slowing down, she said. "I'll explain everything when I'm finished. Just sit tight and make sure you watch your friends. I think they've done more damage to you anyway."

Rohan crossed his arms. "All right, but it's your funeral."

Walking far ahead, she said, "I wish." Then, she stopped short of the sentinel and the two, now hopelessly aggravated knights, dueling with each other. Angus seemed to have taken a nasty shock from Ivar's trident and was fuming under his mask. "You're a menace with that thing, you know," he said.

"Not as maniacal with that reckless aim of yours, of course," responded Ivar as he blocked a hand coming down to slam him.

"Oh, right, of course," said Angus cynically as he slammed his mace into the ground. This sent a massive rippling shock and knocked Ivar off his feet. The creature shook but remained standing. "I'm the one who's been sending blasts into my friends while this thing - what the hell is it, anyway? Some sort of satyr? – This thing has survived everything we've given to him. Right, I'm always the one to blame."

"Angus," Ivar was saying before he stopped himself. He rose to his feet and glanced at Sam. "Milady, are you ill?"

"What's that you say, Ivar?" Angus said, his voice rising.

"I wasn't talking to you." Ivar glared at Sam. "This isn't a safe place for you to be. Get out of here!" He waved his arm for emphasis.

"Well, from what I can tell, it isn't safe for you two either," she said, arms crossed as she stared up at the sentinel.

Now that she was closer, almost touching the sentinel's wings, she realized how horribly deformed it actually was. Though its wings were normal and brown, its arms extended far past its knees and it was very tall, especially when it stood upon its hooves. Its head thrashed about, revealing a stone, skeletal shape, unlike the more conventional human form sentinels took, with hollow eyes, not coal black irises. Yet there was a vaguely reminiscent guardian aura, whether it was in its wings or its short, pointy horns because sentinels, in their natural form, did have horns, unlike demons or angels. "Someone must have dropped you on your head when you were born," she muttered. It pulled its arm back and swung at the knights; however, they all ducked just as its arm came across. It spun around and nearly fell off-balance. Shaking its head, it pushed its way past the knights and continued advancing across the clearing. "Or maybe more than just once," Sam added. Sam began to follow.

"Oi!"

Sam turned her head. "What?"

"Whacha doing here?" asked Angus. Through his facemask, Sam could see his eyes, narrowed and full of suspicion.

She thought. "Working," she said.

"Working? What kind of nonsense is that? You must be daft, lady," he said.

For a moment, Sam nearly smiled at his blunt manner; however, there was a loud groan in front of her. She turned back around and ran after the sentinel.

Rohan had joined them and brandished his broad sword as they all surrounded the creature, forcing it to withdraw into itself. Facing Angus and Ivar, its wings began to flap.

Sam ran around, standing in between Angus and Ivar. The sentinel's head was lowered into its hands.

"What's up with him?" asked Angus, though directing his comment to no one.

"He's gonna fly," Sam said. Angus blinked.

"Although," she continued, "With my luck, I think he's run all out of pixie dust." She had noticed that as the sentinel flapped its wings, feathers fell out as though they were autumnal leaves falling from a branch during a heavy wind. This was generally disturbing to witness. Sentinels were strong and their wings were their pride. For one to let its wings to shed so unceremoniously, it was an indication that this was the product of someone's idea of a twisted, sick joke. Immediately, Sam thought of Knox.

"Pixie dust?" Angus asked, looking at Ivar.

"Don't ask me," said Ivar, glancing at Sam.

She took a step forward. Ivar barricaded her with his trident and Angus blocked her with his body.

She glanced at the both of them. "Let me pass."

"No way," said Angus. "Uh-uh. That thing'll kill ya as soon as look at ya."

"Oh, come now," she said. "I don't know about that. What if I kill him first?"

Angus looked at her, as though for the first time, and with sincere conviction said, "Doubt it."

"Oh, 'you should never, never doubt what no one is sure about,'" she said. However, before she could get in another word edgewise, the sentinel had managed to save enough feathers to lift its poorly deformed body off the ground. "Ah, darn," she muttered. It hovered for a moment and with two enormous flaps of its wings, it soared into the air.

"He got away," said Ivar.

"Blast it!" shouted Angus. "Just when we had him cornered."

Ivar rolled his eyes.

"If you'll excuse me gentlemen," said Sam. Her suit jacket had been tossed aside and she was in the process of unzipping her vest.

"Well, now, that's more ladylike," said Angus. Ivar punched him. "What? Well, clearly you've never been to Derry," he said.

"Nor would I care to, if they fancy you," said Ivar.

"At least our friend's back to his normal self," said Rohan, walking towards them.

Sam breathed. "If stupidity is normal, you are all in grave danger and I'm too late. Hold on to this," she handed her vest over to Angus. "I want this back."

Before Angus could ask, Sam strode into the center of the clearing. A slit running down the back of her shirt flew open, revealing a thin scar line running from the base of her neck to the edge of her hips. She grimaced as the familiar pain of unfolding her wings came to her senses; however, it vanished as soon as she shot up into the air, matching the sentinel's unfathomable speed.

"Whoa – man, would you look at that?" said Angus, ripping off his helmet.

Ivar had removed his facemask and stared, mouth agape.

"She's a bloomin' angel!" cried Angus.

"You know," said Ivar, "Angus for once I just have to agree with you."

"Oh," Angus winced. "Didn't know angels could do that."

"And look!" said Rohan. "It's actually taking her hits."

"It must have some sort of spell cast protecting it," commented Ivar. "Otherwise, I don't understand why our weapons could not have had some sort of effect on it."

"Well, maybe if your aiming was a little more accurate," started Angus as he glanced at Ivar. However, he stopped himself just as he glanced back. He stood back. "She's got him in a chokehold now," said Angus.

"Yeah, but not for long," Rohan said, noting how the sentinel's massive weight and size easily tossed her aside. It flew up, miles away into the clouds and she closely followed. They became so high they were lost in the clouds. The knights seemed to hold their breaths, waiting for something they couldn't explain. However, several minutes had passed by before something began to soar back down to the earth.

"Hey," said Angus. "Is that the…thing or is that…?"

"I think it's the girl," said Rohan.

"She's falling," said Ivar.

They all bolted, running as fast as their armor could allow. Halfway through, they grew exasperated and immediately called off their armor. With agile limbs, they rapidly came to the edge of a cliff, overlooking a steep drop to frigid waters below. They looked up and sure enough, she was still falling, the wings on her back providing her with enough air resistance to slow down her velocity. They watched, uncertain of what to do.

She was still a considerable distance up from the water when she shook herself and regained mobility. The sentinel's hand had landed a heavy blow to her head, which rendered her unconscious for several minutes. She felt her head and a patch of sore numbness swelled just above her earlobe. She looked at her hand but there was no blood. Sam sighed, albeit aggravated, and stared up into the sky.

The knights watched as she slowly crept her way back up into the clouds; however, she stopped, her human body form contradicting the wings that carried her. She turned and flew back towards them, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. She had landed with the grace of a hawk, her boots serving as talons that scraped the ground with swift jerks. She looked at them all and then turned around, searching the skies with her eyes. Her white, cotton shirt billowed open with the wind and a portion of her under garments could be seen. Angus had noticed this first and said aside to Rohan, "I'm checking out an angel. Should this be wrong?" indicating her open shirt.

Rohan's eyes widened and he said, "For all intense and purposes, yes, it should be."

"Yeah, well, shoulda, woulda, coulda, right?" Angus smiled.

Sam noticed Angus's stare and she glanced down at her open shirt, a bit revealing; though to chivalrous knights, now disposed of their shiny armor, this was most probably intimidating. Instead of being repulsed, Sam was somewhat charmed by it. 'I could take advantage of potential enemies. Should this be wrong?' she asked herself. She walked right up to the three knights and crossed her arms, her bosom resting comfortably. "So, what's more surprising, a woman with wings or a woman with breasts?" she asked.

Ivar, who had just barely noticed her open shirt, shook himself. "Oh, well, if it pleases the lady, we are most unaccustomed to someone so striking a figure such as yourself. Forgive my bluntness, but are you an angel?"

A smile she had been attempting to hide vanished all together. Her eyes grew fierce, as if she had been morally offended by his question than their gawking. "I am no angel," she said. "And forgive my bluntness, but I have some unfinished work and my break is over." She had glanced above them and was staring at something in the distance. They all turned around and ducked just in time as the sentinel's hooves kicked in the air. Sam turned around and flew after it. She was close by and reached out her hand, grabbing the sentinel by the hoof. It felt her grasp and kicked out with both hooves, narrowly missing her head. In one swift jerk, she pulled the sentinel around to face her. It looked down at her and emitted a disturbing, high-pitched screeching. She grimaced as she landed a fist in its skull. It fell backwards, jolted by her unconventional magnitude of power.

However, Sam realized that in one hand, it had been gripping the hilt to a dagger, which in Sam's hand was her small sword. She felt suddenly enraged and glared down as she hovered above the sentinel. "Give it back!" she shouted over the wind.

It seemed to shake its head. Sam sighed. "What do you want, then? Hm?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Immunity?" However, the sentinel did not comprehend language, as Sam believed. It gripped the hilt of her sword and bolted by her with an uncanny ability. "I'm gonna take that as a 'no'," she said as she followed after.

It began advancing towards the knights, soaring just above them. The woman was following behind, full of fury and stoic determination. The sentinel led her above the canopy. Her feet barely touched the leaves as she continued to soar down and under the sentinel. When she was close enough, she launched a severe blow to its chest and it staggered back. Sam suddenly had an idea. Nearby, there was another break in the canopy and down below there was the rocky, barren gulley Sam had seen on the way to the clearing. It would just take a simple feint at the right moment. But they would have to be going fast, very fast and at their current position, they were too close to the canopy to get any real speed.

Sam whistled and brought the sentinel to her attention. It cocked its head and opened its jaw, emitting an odd sound. She inclined her head, communicating with it, telling it to follow her. Fortunately, this it understood clearly. She whipped around and flew in the opposite direction. Looking down, the knights were directly underneath, following her with their eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, the sentinel was hurrying to catch up, its jaw opened, hungry for flesh. She stopped and turned around. She shot up into the air leading the sentinel upward until it was so close it reached out with its talons to scrape her boots. She kicked its hand and performed a half-flip in the air, turning the direction around. Now, they were soaring down at velocities so fast, they could easily be liquidated upon impact. "C'mon," she urged. "C'mon, keep focused. Don't look at the knights in shiny armor."

The creature maintained speeds with the woman as she led it away over the canopy of trees. Rohan seemed pensive. "What is trying to do?"

Ivar shrugged, though he answered. "I believe she is trying to lead it somewhere but to where I do not know…or why."

They were sailing, cruising at impossible velocities, like they were experts. Her speed increased as she tucked her wings closer to her body, becoming a solid form with the wind. The sentinel mimicked her and it, too, gained speed. With a slow curve, Sam led the sentinel into the small gulley. Her arms were tight by her sides so that now she was purposefully throwing herself into the valley of rocks below. However, just as she was several feet from the ground, she snapped her body in a sharp turn and flew towards the trees. She turned around in time to see the sentinel's face slam into the rocks. She winced and panted. "Ouch."

"You think we should find her?" asked Ivar.

"She left her vest," said Angus, shrugging the article in front of him. He suddenly frowned. "Hm, interesting," he said.

Rohan saw the familiar gleam in Angus's eyes. "Angus…put it down."

"What? I'm, uh…just taking inventory," he said as he poked and prodded, feeling for inner pockets. For a moment, he became curious with the zipper, a toy that never seemed to cease his enjoyment as he pulled it up and yanked it back down, frowning as it made that unmistakable sound. However, his curiosity was abandoned as soon as he felt a hard lump. He raised a brow. "Well, I'm sure she wouldn't mind me checking to make sure everything she had is still in there…." He trailed off as he flipped it over, found another zipper, yanked it and dug his hand inside.

"Uh, Angus."

"Not now, Rohan."

"Angus."

"Ivar, I told you, I'm just looking."

"And when you find China, could you tell me? I've been looking everywhere for it but have seemed to have misplaced it ever since I made the switchover in Brussels."

Angus stopped rummaging. He bit his lip briefly, removed his hand and turned around. Very slowly. He cowered guiltily until, that is, he saw her with black liquid smeared across her chest and face. Her hands were behind her back and she was swinging on the balls of her feet. He cocked his head. "You look a mess."

She shrugged. "You should see the other guy."

"Why? What…whoa!" Angus nearly fell off his feet as he jumped back. She had held up her arm and in her hand was the head of the sentinel, its jaw dropped, face sunken in and reminiscent of shock. "Ah," said Angus, his entire demeanor changing. "Well, you know, I was only making sure no thieves came across your…eh, clothing while you were away." He handed her vest over and she grabbed it with her other hand, which was not covered in black ooze.

She eyed him. His arms were crossed across his chest and though he was tall, he slouched, as though weighing down with tremendous guilt. His eyes, which were dark brown and full. "And I trust you didn't encounter thieves, then?" she said. She left her vest untouched as it dangled in her hand. Angus didn't answer. "I really have nothing on my person to steal. Better luck next time then…master Angus," she said with a twinge at the corners of her mouth. Turning to her side, Sam discarded the beheaded sentinel, tossing it over the cliff side. It hit the water just as it had smashed into the ground.

"Where are you from?" asked Rohan, his golden locks framing his strong features, much as the brilliant red-flame of a fire encasing the real heat burning blue.

"Across the river and through the woods," she said without blinking. It was more or less a partial truth, one that she had been practiced with for several years since she had begun sliding across the parallels.

"You have no accent," added Rohan thoughtfully.

She shrugged. "So sue me. Would it help to say that I wasn't born here?"

Rohan crossed his arms and breathed heavily; an obvious sign of frustration. "It might but it depends."

"On what?" she asked.

"On where you were born."

Sam held herself back for a moment. It was not a critical decision. This, in essence, was not her actual home. She had known that since the start; however, in all of her travels, on some occasions to the middle ages of Earth history, she had never encountered knights such as these. This told her that this place was more than ordinary because it held a unique significance, a deeper meaning than all of the other places she had been. Then again, it would have been impossible for her to visit every single universe within her life. Even sentinels had difficulty attaining this goal. Most were deterred by a pleasant world full of passionate interests to care otherwise. In that respect, Sam had envied them. But she shrugged away the inconvenience. She made her decision. "Not that it matters…but I was born in Boston, otherwise known as 'the bay state' or shamefully referred to by morons as 'Bean town.' Obviously, I'm not too fond of it," she muttered. They were all frowning. It was to be expected.

"Yes?" she asked, raising her brow.

"Boston?" said Ivar. "I've never heard of it."

"Yeah, and he's traveled the world," said Angus, shaking a thumb towards the black man.

Ivar seemed to be holding Angus in contempt for some reason. He sighed. "Well, if you are referring to my trek across the open seas, then I have had many experiences of foreign lands but truth be told, I am not a conquistador in search of all the lands covering this planet."

"It would have mattered very little then if you were," said Sam. "Because Boston wasn't founded until the sixteen hundreds."

"Excuse me?" said Angus.

She shrugged. "It was the central city located in a colony of the western continent called the United States of America. That colony was called New England and it included the states of Massachusetts, at first, then later developed into such terrestrial areas as the New York and Maine provinces. As the years passed and the descendents of the puritans, selfish wankers who ran away from Mother England, gave up their lives to start a revolution with the king, more states were included as lands further west were discovered. Of course, they weren't actually discovered. It was more or less a savage mishandling of trade agreements among the English invaders and the Natives, idiotically called 'Indians' by a man who spontaneously decided that he had landed on the right country, namely India…but he was before the puritans.

"Anyway, Boston has remained the first city to ever exist in United States' history. And in the year 2004, it was the first city to house the greatest chokers in NBL history…but I'm getting ahead of myself."

Rohan glanced at Angus. He then withdrew his sword and held it at Sam's chest. She glimpsed at the blade as though it were a feather. "If you are one of Maeve's demons, I will not hesitate to slice your throat right here and now."

Sam turned grave. "Then you would be killing yourself in the process."

"Tell us who you really are then…and what's with those wings? Are you some kind of angel? A renegade perhaps?"

"You tempt the wrong human," she said. "I said it already. I will say it again to you but I will say it no longer afterward: I am no angel."

"Tell the truth!" shouted Rohan, stepping forward, pushing his blade closer to her throat.

"Even if I do," she retorted, ignoring the blade as it barely scraped her neck. Instead, she focused in on his eyes, which were light and blue and bouncing with furious curiosity and fear. "Would you believe me or would you rather give in to your temptation to kill me and vindicate it over some false accusation in order to protect your sanity?"

There was a pause between them where even the air was silent as a cool ocean breeze blew by their faces. He breathed, allowing the cool air to calm his mind. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the truth that I know, the truth that I gave to you already, would be too much for simpletons to comprehend. But I gave you more credit than is due, apparently."

Rohan shrugged. "Be careful to judge before you get to know a man," he said with fearless conviction.

Sam broke into a sad smile, not one of mockery but one of sincere depth. "You're more right than you know, sir Rohan," she said. "I wish other men I have met would have thought the same thing." She paused. "But I have told you where I am from; the future. I am not the one whom you should fear at this time. I wish no quarrel with you, only those creatures you have encountered. I was sent here on a continuing mission to send these creatures back to their homes so that they are not interfering with the mortal plane…humans, if you will…when their war breaks out. You can believe me or not but I suggest if you want me to prove myself, you should let me instead of kill me here on the spot. Normally, I wouldn't mind it. In fact, in some cases," she gulped. "I have implored my own death as a means of resolving my commitment to helping those who cannot help themselves for whatever reasons. However, I was led here by the notion that there is a great center of evil brewing here…and you seem to know of which evil I speak."

"Maeve is the only evil thing desecrating this land," he said. "Are you telling us that you were sent from the future to destroy her?" His face suddenly grew wary, as though he feared her answer. His thoughts were of the warrior Draganta; this could not be it, he reasoned. He frowned. "You will answer," he said.

"She is a Queen?" asked Sam.

He nodded, albeit suspiciously. "Yes…what of it?"

"Queen of Temra, she must be," muttered Sam, though Rohan could hear her. Sam seemed to talk with her eyes as well as her mouth. "I do not seek to destroy her…only those who strengthen her evil. They have caused much disruption within the immortal realms," she worded carefully, not hinting towards the greater meaning held within those words. "I have been entrusted with seeing their demise as quickly as possible."

Rohan, slowly, began to nod. "I see," he said, lowering his blade. "We all want the same thing, then?" he asked.

She nodded. "As I said, my quarrel is not with you. In fact, I'm quite restrained from murdering other humans. It's…sort of a morality issue I have."

"And are you human?" asked Rohan.

"I was born with wings but I am still human. That fact alone cannot change." She pursed her lips. She looked at them all and sighed. "Name's Sam Fitzgerald," she added, sticking out her cleaner hand in greeting.

Rohan was hesitant though he shook her hand. "You're a right slap in the face for the rest of us knights. I mean, with the wings and all, you're likely to make someone jealous one of these days."

She stifled a laugh. It was more irony that caught up in her throat than the soft, quick remark. She turned to Ivar and shook his hand and he bowed his head over her hand. "Many thanks." Sam cocked her head. Ivar waved his hand. "I did have my doubts but if you can prove yourself, I am willing to give you that chance. Every man, and woman," he added, "Should have that opportunity, regardless of his or her design."

Then, she turned to Angus and for a moment they stared at each other, like gamblers at the table, determining the other's bluff before the actual call is made. Angus thrust out his hand. "It's good to have you with our troupe, Sam Fitzgerald."

"Likewise," she said, taking his hand. His was coarse and so was hers but there was an edge to her handshake where there was just a firm grip to Angus's hold. He let go but only after feeling her lessen her grip.

"Hey," he said. "Can I ask you a question? Do all women in the future wear pants?" His face was contorted with worry.

She smirked. "You get right to heart of the situation, sir Angus. I like that." She sighed, "Uh, well to answer your question, yes. For the most part, women do adorn themselves in more shapely uniforms. Why, is it such a terrible thing to be denied easy access?"

His face fell. "Oh, uh, no, well, yes…I mean no. Yes, wait," he turned to Rohan for help. "What's correct?"

Rohan just shrugged sheepishly. When Angus turned back around, he was hard put to contain his laughter. Ivar was as well.

Sam stepped forward and pat Angus on the shoulder. "It's all right. I can tell you're accustomed to digging yourself into deep holes."

"More like a cavernous abyss," said Ivar with a smile.

"Uh, Sam," said Rohan, unsure how to address her. "You won't mind if I, or we, ask you some more questions?"

She opened her mouth but paused to speak. Then, she looked more demure and said, "How 'bout a long walk?"

"That's great, hey, what else do women…do exactly? You know, in the future?" asked Angus, leading her back across the clearing.

"Say," she said, as though an idea struck her, "If I'm not too far from my home, then there should be a town near Kells castle."

"The village? Yeah, sure," said Rohan. "We live there."

"Except for time, we're pretty much neighbors then," mused Sam. When they exchanged glances, she shrugged and began walking back towards the skirt of the forests. "C'mon, I'll explain to you on the way everything you need to know. In the meantime, would any one of you fine gentlemen be carrying a flask upon your person? Preferably one containing hard liquor?"


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

**A STROLL THROUGH THE VILLAGE PEOPLE:**

A soft rain began to fall across the land as a downy mist played with the branches of the swaying trees and as the woods began to separate, they reached the foot of a quaint, though habitual village, working away as though nothing had ever happened. To Sam, the town had disappeared and everything had changed…but that went with time travel. It had been many years since she had been "tossed" into parallel universes and needless to say she was used to seeing the town in which she lived designed in many fashions. Ireland never seemed to relinquish that sense of mysticism, however, no matter where she had gone.

"Well, this is it," said Rohan, placing an arm on his hip.

"I'm up at the castle," said Ivar.

Angus mocked him.

"Do you want to wear that face when I sever your head and place it on a pike for all to see?" asked Ivar.

Angus angled his head and smiled. He looked at Sam. "He's such a kidder."

She chuckled. "I'm sure underneath that rich sensibility lays the hidden clown, aching to get out."

"Angus has such a way with words," said Ivar, leaning on his trident. "You wouldn't have known you were talking to a grown man unless you were face to face with him."

"Hey, I resent that," said Angus, straightening.

"I'm not surprised," muttered Ivar.

"C'mon," said Rohan. "We'll stop off at our camp first before we go and see the king." He walked past the village center, the eyes of many maidens watching him as he went. Angus seemed to try catching an eye or two but his efforts were futile.

Ivar looked at Sam. "The king is an old warrior but years of war have not hardened him. He has raised a daughter and she is like her father; neither hard nor soft, always hard to discern. But she is a good friend."

Sam glanced at Ivar. "Why do you tell me this?"

"The only real way for two people of different nations to connect is through the sharing of information. You have brought up your end of the bargain most magnanimously and I thank you. You have taught me many things."

"You appreciate teachers," she said. "You should be commended."

"Are teachers not appreciated in your time?" he asked, worry etching his brow.

This serious concern for education brought unique warmth to Sam's resolve of the knights she had encountered. Warriors they were but not as blind as soldiers. Ivar showed a keen interest and most probably an admiration for education that was so simple yet highly fundamental to living. She reveled in the thought of how the other men in her life were either scornful of their education because they only considered the boring academics aspect or they were ignorant of it at all costs. 'People grow,' she had once thought while sitting on a park bench alone, 'only when they have been taught. The person grows because he has been educated but no one can grow without their teachers.' She smiled softly. "Not as they should be," she said. "But where I had originally come from, the entire education system had began. Ask anyone in the country and they will tell you that the hardest universities are all located in the state of Massachusetts. Not to say that the best education is in one location."

"Education, if I may interject, is only as good as the effort being put into learning from it in the first place." He tilted his head. "The same goes for here, as anywhere."

Sam's smile broadened.

They were standing at the outer edge of Rohan's campsite and Angus seemed to have been busying himself with a gold coin while Rohan went inside briefly.

"Of course," said Ivar loudly. "I may be wrong about education reaching just any where."

Angus glanced up. "What are you saying, that I'm not educated?"

Ivar leaned on his trident. "No, in some ways you are, Angus, educated," he said, using the term loosely.

Angus shrugged and went back to his coin.

"In thievery and greed," said Ivar.

In a split second, Angus was on his feet, inches away from Ivar. "That's…former thief."

"Ah, pay no heed to them," said Rohan, emerging from the hut with several scrolls of parchment tucked under his arm. "Angus is always a bit bitter when someone splashes a little water in his face to wake him up in the morning."

"A little? Ivar dumped the entire ocean on me!"

"Angus," sighed Ivar. "I'm not going to argue with you any longer. You've been an insufferable annoyance ever since I met you but you're still my friend. And as friends, I've learned some things about you. Like how your pranks on others are laughable but as soon as the tables are turned and here you are, drenched in your own undoing, it's unbearable for you to stand. Am I getting warm?"

Angus paused then he looked indignantly. "What?"

"Just admit it, can you? You hate being the butt of a joke. It kills you. It eats through that thick skull of yours," Ivar said, tapping Angus on the head.

"It does not!"

"Then why have you been arguing with me over every little nuance since yesterday?"

"I have not!"

"Have so. In fact, you are right now."

"Gentlemen," said Rohan, coming in between Ivar and Angus. "Now, is it like you two fine fellers to be heading off in such a way, 'specially in front of our guest." He glanced at Sam.

She seemed to not be noticing them…or anything at all. She edged her way past the three knights and began to walk through the village, not necessarily admiring or having any particular interest in the kettle steaming over a campground fire or the middle-aged woman tending to a hole in the stray roof above her hut. Sam could have seen this before. In fact, she had. Shaking herself, she turned back around and walked to the knights. "You said a fairy king showed you all how to get your armor?"

"Yeah," said Angus. They nodded.

She seemed to evolve the words from her mouth. "Do you think…you think he has any knowledge of…he's connected with other realms, yes?"

Rohan frowned. "In a way, I guess. What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you think he talks to angels and demons?"

Rohan paused. He didn't know what to say. King Fin Varra was an enigma even without talking in riddles every time the knights visited Tir Na Nog. But it never really occurred to him that the fairy king could quite possibly have fairy connections in Heaven and Hell. He shrugged.

Angus spoke. "Besides animals, trees, rocks and just about everything else living and not, I don't think it would be too great a leap for the little man."

"Why would he need to talk to angels and demons?" asked Ivar. "I thought you said it was these sentinels you were after?"

"In some cases, angels are just as responsible for everything that's happened. But I want to talk with this king. He may have some advantage that others may not. Can you take me to him?"

The knights glanced at each other. Rohan shrugged. "I…don't suppose we couldn't…. Ow! Angus what was that for?" jumped Rohan, rubbing his arm where Angus had pinched it.

"Can I talk to the two of you…in private?" he asked, glaring at Sam.

They took several steps back and turned around. Angus seemed to be riled up about something. Sam judged he was skeptical about her since they started walking to the village. She was cynical of his past crimes, though inwardly she could have cared less. He possibly saw her as a threat to him because she was seemingly sided with Ivar at the moment.

However, just as Angus turned around to confront her, she stopped him, sensing a dead chill exploding within the village. She looked around, finding no source. Yet, within seconds, there was a scream and villagers began scattering towards their homes. Sam followed the villagers with her eyes and determined the point of all the confusion and chaos.

Temran soldiers had managed to saunter in, fully shielded and armored up to the neck. They were all dirty and stunk of rot and decay but Sam was sniffing the air for more. Fortunately, there was no sulfur in the air. No mark of an immortal presence…yet.

The three knights had scattered apart towards the oncoming soldiers. Rohan looked at Angus, then at Ivar. "Call it."

They lifted their weapons above them and called their armor.

Sam, however, had remained where she stood, eyes transfixed on the soldiers marching forward. She kept her arms at her side, feeling her waistline. She turned to her side, keeping her eyes on the soldier sitting aboard his horse. He was the one that needed to be taken off first. The other soldiers listened to their leader. If they were without a leader, they were vulnerable.

At least twenty soldiers were in her way. The knights came and surrounded the soldiers. Angus took the left flank, Rohan the middle and Ivar the right. Sam stood behind Ivar and Rohan. They began sending charges from their weaponry, which tossed the soldiers back. However, their shields protected them from the worst of the blows. Sam stepped back, crouched then booked it, running through the score of men as though she were an arrow launched from a quivering bow. She was stopped once; however, she ducked just as a mace came swinging at her head. She kicked his gut, elbowed his back and punched his face. He fell, dazed. Sam was still halfway to the officer. He shouted orders, but the men seemed more or less out of order than able to comprehend anything else they were told. She ran, dodging stumbling soldiers, an occasional sword jab and when she reached the officer sitting atop his horse, he looked down at her, smiled with gritted teeth and swung a broad sword her way. She ducked and used this position to launch herself into the air, wings spread and flapping. She was at least a foot above the officer, who now looked as if he saw the devil in her presence, and with one swift kick, she knocked him off his horse. He slid down and collapsed in a heap on the ground. The soldiers did not see that their officer was down. They were still setting up a blockade with their shields against the knights, who were launching everything they had at them. She barely touched her feet on the horse's saddle. She bore no weapon. With one loud call, the soldiers all turned to see their officer had been defeated and in his place was an angel.

Sam knew that look. And she hated it. She was no angel. To prove this, she shouted, "Put down your shields and piss off!"

In one swoop, they chucked down their armory and weapons and ran back through the forests. When they were all behind her, Sam crossed her arms and looked down at the knights. She floated back down and began to tuck in her wings. She stifled a wince. "Take me to the fairy king," she said.

The knights removed their masks. They did not say a word.

However, before Sam could speak, there was an enormous crash and a sonic boom. It was so large, it sent a rippling torrent through the forest and knocked everyone off their feet. The knights and Sam shot up and began looking around for the source. "There!" cried Angus.

They all looked to where he was pointing. A purple bubble seemed to encase the entire village. The people inside were frightened, screaming for their lives. In a flash, the bubble disappeared, taking with it the villagers inside.

"What the…?" said Rohan.

"That…witch!" cried Angus. "She stole the entire bloody village!"

"I…don't know," said Ivar. "I don't think even Maeve could have conjured that much power on her own."

"You're right," said Rohan.

As they talked, Sam stared at the empty village. She knew what was going on because she had seen shadows hovering around the bubble just before all had disappeared. Shadows meant sentinels…sentinels that didn't want to be seen. She sighed. The knights had made the decision to head to the castle as quickly as possible. "The king's not going to believe this," said Rohan.

"He will," said Sam. "And I will be your proof."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

**FROM HERE:**

Once at the castle gates, Angus grumbled. "I told you she wasn't right."

"I wouldn't go making judgments so swiftly, master-of-terrible-excuses," warned Sam. "I understand you don't trust me. I accept that…in fact, I implore it. You shouldn't trust me."

"You see, I told you!" shouted Angus, stopping in his tracks.

"Angus, bite your tongue," said Ivar. "I think she's trying to make a valid point."

Angus did bite his tongue, metaphorically speaking; however, he seemed smitten with anger and ready to explode.

Sam nodded. "Those who have put their trust in me always have a bad ending. I say this to warn you in advance. It's not that I have put to harm the others I have met. It's this…thing that follows me everywhere I go that always seems to cause destruction."

"Well, then, I guess if you just leave, we should be all right," said Angus, crossing his arms.

"No," she said. "Those villagers disappearing are partially my doing. I didn't cause it but I sure as hell know who did. And if I'm to prove myself to all of you, I think this would be it." She glanced at Ivar. He nodded.

"It's a conspiracy, I swear," muttered Angus.

"And why would anyone want to conspire against you?" asked Rohan. "Not that you don't possess that charm that everyone wants."

Angus was shaking his head. "You're all against me."

Sam stood in front of him and leaned down, her face so close to his, he smelled a mint aftertaste on her breath. "Now that's just crazy, sir Angus."

Rohan sighed. "Open the gates," he said to a guard. The gates opened. "You know, you don't have to put 'sir' before our names."

"Yeah, well you're humble," said Angus. "I'm not. You can keep saying it for all I care," he nodded to Sam. She blinked once and then turned away from him, leaving him with an involuntary sense of guilt at his selfishness. He shook away the feeling and followed them inside the courtyard.

"Well this is painfully familiar," she muttered as they passed under the arches.

The king, upon arrival of the knights, was informed that the knights had arrived with news of the village people disappearing and that they had brought with them a stranger. This had made him anxious, though he did not display this to any of his guards as they passed in and out of the throne room.

Rohan and Ivar led Sam inside the castle, though Angus had resolved himself to walking behind, cautiously keeping an eye on the 'she-devil.' He knew that as soon as she had started conferring with Ivar that something was wrong. It wasn't often that women tended to flock towards the intelligent man in the group. And she was smart; cunning was the word. When he had attempted to persuade her to him, dolling out his usual uplifting charm (a favorite), she was quick to respond with a remark that was both insightful and a slap in the face. This had never before happened with any other woman besides the princess; however, even Deidre had a limit on where she would go in the conversation. Sam was just a veteran, like an old soldier, trained, broken in, flawless. But she was real, too, and that jilted him a little more than frightened him. Her sense of realism was both a stab in the back and something else, something…decent.

He shook his head again.

Upon entering the throne room, Sam felt a tension but the king was not the source. It lurked somewhere in that room, registering from above. She glanced up and saw a closed door on a balcony.

She glanced back at the throne and standing just beyond it was a middle-aged, rugged-looking man with a crown above his head. When she was introduced, Sam bowed her head and looked back up into the king's eyes.

He seemed wary. "Tell us, stranger, where are you from?"

Sam breathed. "I'm…from here."

The king frowned. The knights shifted behind her.

"But from another time."

The king raised his brow. "Please…explain."

"Among other things, I'm a time traveler. But you will have to bear with me because my story is quite long and I'd rather be preventing useless deaths than talk for the better part of a day. No offense," she shrugged. "Oh, your highness," she added for good measure.

Out of an adjourning room, a young woman in an elegant gown and a crown above her head strode through the throne room, followed by a young man in fine clothing and a smug on his face. The woman's face was furious. "Excuse me, father, but I must have a word with you."

"I'm sorry, Deidre, but you will have to save your marriage arguments for another time. The village has just been emptied of its people and we apparently have encountered a time traveler in our midst that will, in due coarse, explain her purpose here. I hope," he added.

The woman looked confused. She blinked. Then, she looked over at Sam, eying her clothing critically. Sam bowed. "You are Princess Deidre?"

"Yes," Deidre said abruptly. "Who are you?"

"Sam Fitzgerald. You…are a knight as well, then?"

Deidre gave Rohan a look. "Yes, I am. How did…?"

"The guys told me," she indicated with her head. "And you sir," said Sam, glancing at the smug-looking man standing behind Deidre. "You're Prince Garrett."

"Aye," said Garrett. "A knight as well."

Sam nodded. "Well, as I understand it your holiness, your kingdom has been at war with another kingdom nearby and its queen has had many attempts to destroy you all but has failed every time." The king nodded. "Except," she continued. "Now she's stolen your village people yet these men behind me don't seem to think that she's capable of that kind of magic."

King Conchobar glanced at Rohan. "Oh? How so?"

"Well," she shrugged. "They're right. She's not. She may be evil but she would have needed help. A lot of help."

"She's got Mider," said Angus.

Sam frowned. "Who's that?"

"A fairy," said the king.

"Another one?" asked Sam.

"Yes."

"And he's a baddie?" she asked.

"Oh yes," said King Conchobar. "A real corrupt fairy," he sighed, leaning on his throne. A slap in the face could not have better described what he better needed.

Sam sighed. "Listen, for some reason my mission has sent me here."

"Which is?" asked Angus rather hotly. He was given a glare from the king.

She turned and looked directly at Angus. "As I have already informed you, master Angus, I must send all of the guardians of the Divine Gates back to their posts before a very gritty, endless and disastrous war begins, starting with annihilation of the human race."

"And just who are the 'guardians of the Divine Gates'?" the king asked.

She paused. Then a small, sad smile crept upon her face. "They're sentinels."

"That…thing…you helped us destroy," said Ivar, adding weight to her words.

"More like beheaded," added Rohan.

Sam nodded. "Yes. That was a sentinel. Actually, it was rather deformed. However, he was a sentinel all the same."

She turned back. "My wings, milord, are a mark of my commitment to this war of unnatural beings. I…."

The king interrupted. "You…have wings?"

Instead of answering, Sam backed up into the middle of the room, removing her suit jacket and then zipping off her vest, chucking both on the table. She breathed. She knew it was not beneficial to open her wings more than twice in a day and she had been using her wings so often, she felt her spine split a little every time she did it. However, the king needed proof and she needed information. Ona wasn't providing any help as of late and Sam was most likely better off in a rock in a hard place. She looked up at the king as she unfolded her wings. Her hands curled up into her fists, nails digging into her skin. There was a rip. No one could hear it but she certainly could feel it. She breathed again. It was harder to take them out because they relented when overused. Sam's body heat increased and she felt like sweating. However, from the corner of her eye, she saw the feathery white tips of her wings. When they were fully expanded, she let go of the breath she had been holding and closed her eyes. She said, "It's a common misconception that all angels have white wings. White is a symbol of purity. They have wings of gold. A symbol of pride." As she said this, she glanced at Angus, who met her stare. He turned his head away and then proceeded to lean against a wall.

"And you're pure?" asked Angus.

"Still relenting, my friend," she asked, opening her eyes. "No," she shook her head. Her wings flapped a little, blowing a calming breeze into the throne room. "I'm anything but pure. It's more…it's a mythical thing. I never could understand it myself."

"Magnificent," whispered the king, who had been gawking, wide-eyed as two wings began to rise up from behind her. White, long, downy. It reminded him of a soft bird, the feeling of spring as it took flight in its wings. It was dangerous to be this pure. "How…how can this be a mutation?"

Sam suddenly looked pained. "I'm sorry. I can't answer that question for I do not know. I just have them. I always have. Don't know if I always will, though. It's that sort of logic that keeps the two Houses spinning," she shrugged, looking at Angus. She hoped she could appeal to him somehow.

"Houses?" Deidre asked.

"Heaven and Hell."

"So…this is a battle of good versus evil," said the king.

Sam suddenly grinned. "My majesty, if I may say so, you seem like an old warrior who misses the call of battle. You must have a firm appreciation for the honor of it all."

"Oh, aye," he nodded. He stood up straighter as though the rich clothing he wore everyday had been wearing him down.

"Well, if everything evolves the way I think it will, you shall have that battle returned to you. This is a war long overdue," she sighed, placing her arms on her hips. "And you're smack in the middle of ground zero, whether you like it or not."

"Between God and the Devil, you mean?" asked the king.

"Well, no." She paused. "You see the Sentinels on both sides had once been on similar terms. They were never at peace but they had an understanding. The God you all know had decided that he would use Sentinels as a means of protecting His kingdom from being overflowed with the spirits of the dead, especially His latest creation, humans. Of course, the Devil was jealous and decreed he would use Sentinels to protect His gates from angels attempting to destroy Him. The Sentinels were a single race, then, of beings, neither living nor dead. They just were. And when they were called upon to perform their duties, they had to be split up; one half would go to God, the other half to the Devil. The Sentinels were allowed to converse amongst each other as they always had done but they had to remain loyal to their master.

"However, as all good stories go, something happened, something sent a rippling effect among the opposite sides. Sentinels were becoming more and more isolated from their own kind and eventually were only dedicated to their masters. The angels and the demons saw this happening and for the most part, they wanted to prevent their gates from being attacked. Or at least that is what I have been told. It's very speculative whether or not the angels were acting upon their own accord but it is very likely the demons were under orders. They are under a tight leash for the most part, as well as you can understand.

"The next thing to occur was probably one of the most significant moves in pragmatic dogma. Angels had taken upon themselves to keep the division of the Sentinels and had thus infiltrated both sides with hollow lies. And as someone once said, 'The bigger the lie, the more you tell it, the more people will believe it.' And that's what happened. Soon, the Sentinels were clearly divided, some of the Devil's own taking upon a new form while God's sentinels sprouted more wings.

"Many years ago, when there were sentinels roaming the earth and when I had already begun my separate quest to find some answer to my mutation, there was an accident. The Devil's Sentinels had been mistaken for demons at a public outing and they were burned alive. Immediately, the Devil responded and sent out his most trusted Sentinels to find the arsonist. At the same time, He was criticizing the other sentinels for starting this division. His sentinels then began attacking God's sentinels on earth, in the view of the public. That was where I had been picked up. A sentinel by the name of Marock, who was the Devil's second-in-command, found me and told me I would find all the sentinels in this realm and send them back to their gates before they started interfering with mortal lives. He told me I had been gifted for this specific purpose and that I would be the only human capable of sending sentinels to Heaven or to Hell. But when he said all of the sentinels on earth, he also meant all of those sentinels who were residing in parallel universes. A fact, which has been my greatest pet peeve for many years."

"Whoa, man, wait a minute," said Angus. He had been swallowing up every word she had been saying. "Parallel universes?"

Sam sighed. "Had you not been listening when I explained this all to you on the way here?"

"He only likes to listen to himself talk, milady," said Garrett.

"I wouldn't talk if I were you," said Angus.

"You dare question me?" said Garrett.

"Gentlemen," said the king. "Let's save this quarrel for a better time."

For the moment, they stopped. Sam continued. "Parallel universes occur through the various dimensions of time and space. For example, there is another earth existing at this same moment, with the same people and the same effects but with different circumstances or different situations." She glanced at Garrett. "Your king could just be a knight on another earth while you sit on that throne and dictate," she said to Angus. This flattered him and he smiled a little. The king grumbled. "Well, believe what you will," said Sam to the king. "That's just the way it is."

"So, they're could be someone who is me," said Rohan, "But he's living on a different Earth?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

He furrowed his brow. "Strange."

"You have no idea," she mumbled. "Which brings me here, literally. Another sentinel I know has been my transporter, for the most part. But she's been quite silent for several hours."

"Hm," the king mused, stroking his bearded chin. He sighed.

"Your majesty," said Rohan, suddenly stirring from his thoughts. "Where's Cathbad?"

"Oh, he's in his chambers."

Rohan walked across the room and climbed the stairs. He opened the door that Sam had felt contained something of power inside. She stared at the open door and frowned. "Who's Cathbad?"

"He's a wizard," said the king.

She held her breath.

"What is it, Sam?" asked Ivar.

Sam spoke slowly. "Nothing. I just…I've never met a wizard before." She hesitated to tell them that she had felt the wizard's power even before the door had opened. Through the many years spent searching and killing sentinels, her mind expanded more, became more connected to her other senses, the ones that humans generally tended to ignore. As a result, she was in constant awareness of the shadows flitting around her.

Angus was looking at Sam. Something wasn't right with him whenever he so much as thought of her and his first instincts usually proved true. There was something he couldn't read, something he couldn't guess about her and that was unsettling. An expert thief, he had to be an excellent judge of character and when one person was hard to understand, he knew there was something worth discovering there. He smiled to himself.

Prince Garrett had been still since the king had silenced them. He had shifted in his boots several times and felt like he needed to pace. But after hearing Sam's story, he felt like collapsing in a chair. What she was talking about was pure madness. If she were lying, she would be compromising the trust of the king and the rest of the knights. Angus would surely have seen right through her if she was but he didn't seem to be convinced of anything. He just looked…smug. Garrett sniffed.

Deidre heard him and crossed her arms. "Father, when do you think would be a good time for us to go over the initial contract of our marriage alliance?" Her eyes were steely but carried naïve concern in them.

Her father, the king, sighed. "I don't know, Deidre. We'll have to find out what's going on here first. My entire village!" he suddenly shouted. Everyone jumped.

Just then, Rohan walked out of the room above the throne and an elderly man with a very long, white beard followed him.

Sam suddenly tightened as he cast his glance over the room. He seemed to look straight through her but even as he did so, she felt it and it was unnerving.

"When Rohan told me we had a visitor who had wings, I wasn't expecting it," he was saying as he climbed down the stairs, slow at every step. Rohan walked to where Angus was leaning against the wall. They shared a glance. "Now, that's saying a lot for an old man who has seen so much and prefers to prevent strange things from harming this castle. But, I do not mean to infer that you, young lady, are a harm to this castle," he breathed as he reached the last step. He walked past Garrett and Deidre, striding with an effervescence that seemed unlikely for a man his age. He glanced Sam over and smiled kindly. He held out his hand in greeting. "In fact, if anything, you are a blessing to our turmoil."

Sam eyed him, feeling a sense of fear. There was something he knew about her already, or something that he had sensed about her mission. She shook his hand. "Well, I can guarantee you that that is the only time I've ever been called a blessing."

He smiled more, if it was possible. "Eh, you are a lively one, I can tell. And considering your task, that in itself is a blessing."

She frowned. "I don't understand. Do you know about the sentinels?"

"I have for some time seen shadows form in the corners of my room and not known what creature found itself taking up residence there. But up until this moment, I had not known that what I was seeing was real and not some trick of an old man's mind," he winked at her. He raised his hand. "You have only confirmed my suspicions and I must say it is quite a relief to be back in my normal frame of mind."

Angus snorted.

"What was that, thief?" said Cathbad with a sharp sneer.

"Thief!" shouted Angus, placing a hand to his chest. "Are you calling me a thief?"

"Is it that reallysurprising to you anymore?" asked Rohan. He didn't seem in the mood.

Angus stuttered. "Well, I…no, not really…but he…ah." He waved his hand in resolution.

Sam tilted her head, smiling.

Cathbad turned around. "Your majesty, I ask that you put your full trust in this girl. I have seen that she will come as a great ally in our own quest to end Maeve's terrible reign."

Sam was about to speak; however, Angus beat her to it. "No, I don't think that's such a great idea, Cathbad."

"And why should I believe the words of a thief versus my own advisor?" asked the king with a gruff manner.

"First of all, it's FORMER thief, remember? Second, she told us herself that she couldn't be trusted. Speaking from experience, milord, if someone tells you not to trust them, you shouldn't." He shot a look at Sam, who was gazing at the king.

The king shifted. "Is this true?"

Sam lowered her eyes. "Your knight means well. Although he is uncouth, he speaks the truth." She glanced at Angus and they made eye contact. She looked back at the king. "I had warned these men earlier of my past relationships with others. A fatal end met those who followed too close. I only wish you take that into consideration if and when you use me as an ally."

The king, pausing to think, slowly began to nod. "Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy and there are always risks worth taking."

Sam then bent down on one knee and lowered her head. Her wings were animated and flitting. She spoke. "Then I shall be your humble servant and God damn me if I fail you." She waited.

The king looked passively down at her. He straightened again. "Arise, young lady, and do what you have promised."

She raised her head and from behind light eyes etched in ware, she seemed to register a newfound intensity that emanated from a lost determination. She needed this. Sam stood to her feet and bowed again before speaking. "Your majesty, I first must go to Tir Na Nog and talk with the king there. He may have some answers for me that could help us all find the villagers."

The king nodded. "Yes, of course. Have Rohan, Ivar and…." He suddenly smiled. "Angus take you there."

Angus sighed and shook his head. He had wanted the king to dismiss her long ago but Conchobar trusted her. It was aggravating.

"Go now," the king said to the four of them. As one they nodded and walked outside the throne room.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

**TRICK OF THE MIND:**

Once in the courtyard, Sam stopped beside a cart filled with hay. She grabbed the wood with both hands and gulped in a large breath of air. Angus, who had been walking behind, partly for his own betterment, noticed her stopping. He watched her avidly though did not speak. Her short hair fell in front of her face. He watched her wings flap hard and had to jump away from one of the wings as it came thrashing down.

Sam breathed heavily. She yelped in pain. Immediately, the other two knights stopped and turned around to find her and Angus had fallen behind. Rohan and Ivar ran over and stopped just short of a wing snapping in front of them. She knew they were all there, gawking at her. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm just trying to put them back in." She yelped again and gripped the wood harder. "Fine, I'm fine," she gasped.

Angus frowned. "Are…you sure you're all right?"

Sam couldn't talk. She nodded furiously yet on the inside she was screaming. Her wings would not fit in properly. She sucked in air and held her breath, hearing the blood sing in her ears as she pushed with all her muscles to bring them back in. Slowly, painfully, her wings folded into her back. There was no trace of the wings ever being there at all except for the one thin, red line starting at the base of her neck and touching just below her ribcage.

Angus peered at that line and shuddered. He had never seen the small of a woman's back so clearly before. The women he had bedded were modest and rested on their backs. It was neither fun nor sexy for him to be totally in control all the time, though. This woman was dominating and it scared him just a little. He shook himself and realized that they had already begun to walk towards the gates. Sam had put her vest back on and sealed herself up. Angus walked up to her and they walked behind Rohan and Ivar out of the castle grounds.

For the most part, their walk was in complete silence, with the occasional birdcall or howl from another animal. They had taken another route away from the now-empty village, a path that seemed to stretch for miles into the distance. They were away from the forests and open to the sky. Sam kept glancing up and around her, occasionally sensing shadows whizzing by.

Angus noticed this odd behavior and said, "What are you looking for?"

She snapped to attention. "What? Oh, it's nothing. Well, it is," she laughed briefly. "Sentinels, when they don't want to appear in public view, they cloak themselves. When people say that they thought they had seen a shadow move in front of their eyes, it's a sentinel. Or…it could just be the mind experiencing some form of matrix and the latter is usually the case."

"What's matrix mean?" asked Angus.

"It's basically 'trick of the mind.' This type of natural occurrence usually happens to those who want to see something and force an image that may or may not be there…like when you look up at the clouds. What do you see?"

Angus pointed to himself. "Me? What do I see? I don't know." He glanced up and found a puffy cloud pulling apart and breaking away from one larger cloud. The sky appeared sharp blue behind it. "I think…I see a warrior…yeah, a warrior with a shield and he's fighting a dragon."

"You're not talking about me, are you Angus?" asked Rohan ahead of them.

Sam smiled. "He's just proving a point I'm making about the mind playing tricks on the brain."

"In that case," said Rohan. "You've got the perfect subject."

Angus rolled his eyes.

Sam tilted her head. "So what's your story?"

"Hm?" he said. "Oh, well, I already told you."

She pursed her lips. "No, I meant what's your real story, beyond what those ancient scrolls say? Who's the real Angus?"

He could see that she was trying to contain her laughter. "Knock it off," he grumbled.

"No, I'm serious," she said, punching his arm. "I want to know. You're a thief…oh, excuse me, former thief," she added after seeing his glance. "C'mon. Tell me."

"Why?" he shrugged.

"Humor me." She leaned in closer so that only he could hear. "Between us, we're more alike than you think."

He turned his head to look straight at her. He blinked. "Did you hit your head when you were a baby?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "No. I sprouted wings. Look, I was generous enough to tell you about me."

"I don't trust you."

"Point taken. But answer me this: if you don't trust me, why are you walking beside me instead of following me like you were at the castle?"

Angus turned away from her. He didn't know why he was walking beside her. It didn't happen on purpose. He shrugged. "Don't know."

"Could it be, perhaps, that you wanted me to give away some bit of information that would tell you I was a liar?"

He breathed. "Yeah, something like that."

She smiled. "I love irony." He frowned. "You're a thief and you criticize me of lying."

"Like I said," Rohan said over his back, "Don't pay him any heed."

"I always find that the more complex the character, the better the person," she said.

"Don't flatter me," said Angus.

"Oh, trust me," she said. "I wasn't." 'What am I doing?' she asked herself.

They didn't talk for several minutes. When they did, Angus was first to speak. He said, "Did you know that Rohan and I have been friends since we were kids?"

"That's quite a long time. You must know each other well."

"Painfully well, you might say." He suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny, gold coin. He showed it to Sam, who glanced at it and nodded. "It's my lucky coin."

"Every one's got something they believe in," she said.

"Do you?" he asked.

She looked him in the eyes. "No."

Angus blinked, unsettled.

For the rest of the walk, they talked. He took most of the trip referring to his childhood and his past experiences with thievery. There were tales that made Sam laugh hard, a sound Angus liked to hear when he told a joke or two. He was relieved of the fact that she refrained from criticizing him. Instead, she listened. Of course, Rohan and Ivar were there to fill in the gaps when Angus purposefully avoided a certain point in the story.

"I've got a joke," said Sam after their laughter had died down.

"Oh yeah," said Angus, raising a brow. "Let me tell you right now there's not a man nor woman can best me with a joke so funny, it causes men to fall off their chairs and women to cry."

"Thanks for the warning," she smiled.

"Well," he said. "Go on with it."

"Very well. A man at a local bar has knocked back a few since he walked in a little over an hour ago. Feeling lucky, he wants to make a bet with the bartender for ten gold coins. So, very inebriated, he calls over the bartender and 'outlines' his plan. The bartender, finishing his water, humors the drunk man and says with a smile, 'All right, what're we bettin' for?'

The man thinks for a minute (which to the bartender is an eternity) but has no idea. The bartender, thinking he can get easy money off of this guy, says, 'How 'bout this? I'll give you twenty gold coins if you can complete three tasks for me. You up for it?'

'Hell yes I am," the drunk man says. "What is it I've gotta do?'

'Well,' the bartender says, scratching his chin. 'You see that big, husky lookin' fella over there? He's my guardsman. You're first task will be to knock him out. Next, downstairs I've got my big, black dog tied up. Now, he's normally a good pet 'cept as of late he's been in lots of pain and he's been quite mean. For your second task, you've gotta yank out his bad tooth.'

'All right," says the drunk. "What's the last task?'

'Lastly, you've gotta make love to my grandmother, who's upstairs in her room."

At this point, Angus had chuckled.

" 'You've gotta make her reach climax three times.' The bartender holds up his fingers for the drunken man to see.

'Very well,' the drunken man says and shakes the bartender's hand.

As soon as he finished his drink, the drunken man takes his mug, chucks it at the guardsman's head and the guardsman falls to the floor, cold unconscious. Then, the drunken man stumbles off his stool, runs across the bar, whips open the door and stumbles down the stairs. At first, there's a lot of growling and yelling and this goes on for a good ten minutes. And then, suddenly, everything's quiet. A minute later, there's a thumping and then everyone in the bar sees the drunken man limping up the stairs, his face is bloody and he's got scratches all over his body. He limps into the bar, stops, turns to the bartender and says, 'Ok. Where's the old lady with the bad tooth?'"

For a minute, all was still. They had all stopped at a fork in the road and were breaking to listen to her story. Suddenly, Angus broke out laughing, doubling over and holding his gut. Rohan and Ivar joined in and Sam watched with amusement. She adjusted her hair and dusted off her vest and said, "Well, how d'you like them apples?"

Angus held up a finger and couldn't speak. When he could, he was grinning broadly and jovial, all tension wiped away from his face. "You," he breathed, "have just won my trust."

Her smile faded. His qualifications for trusting a person were quite dull.

"I never thought I'd hear such words from a lady," said Ivar.

"I'm no lady, either," she said.

Angus glared at her, raising his brow, almost as if to say, 'can you prove it otherwise?'

She smiled. "I'm a warrior."


	7. Chapter 7even

Chapter 7

**BACK HOME IN DERRY:**

They were all in good spirits by the time they had reached Tir Na Nog. More clouds had settled in, blocking out the sun entirely. It was depressing yet they all seemed to have a hidden smile just waiting to break through. Rohan led the way into a cluster of boulders, which served as the entrance to King Fin Varra's home. Once inside, they had to place their hands over a stone. A mist developed surrounding them all. "Is this…natural?" asked Sam.

"You telling me that you've dealt with sentinels, demons and angels and what-not and you're worried if this stuff is natural?" asked Angus.

She looked him over. "I meant your proximity to me."

Realizing that he was brushing up against her when he had a clear amount of space to stand, Angus shifted almost instantly. He coughed. "Uh, sorry 'bout that." His eyes darted around the room.

Sam hid a grin, as well as Rohan and Ivar.

Just then, they appeared in King Fin Varra's lair. Sam looked around. Angus nudged her. She glanced at him and then followed his eyes. They were looking down. Sitting nobly upon his throne was Fin Varra, as mighty and majestic as any king…fairy sized.

"King Fin Varra," said Rohan. "This is Sam Fitzgerald. She requested to see you."

"Huh," muttered the king. "On what grounds?"

"It's a matter of great importance, your majesty," said Sam softly. She bowed so low, her head nearly grazed his crown.

He sat up in his throne. "Well, get on with it."

"My name is Sam Fitzgerald…but to those who fear me, I am Tyrannicidae."

The king began stroking his bearded chin. It was a common habit amongst kings with beards. " 'Tyrannicidae'? Hm," he mused. "Interesting. You call yourself the Slayer?"

"My head is not that big. No," she said, shaking her head. "A sentinel calls me that."

"Sentinel," the king said as he stopped stroking his chin. "You speak of the Guardians?"

"I know no others," she said. "But what do you know of them?"

He huffed and shifted himself. "Only that they are the most vile, putrid, annoying creatures I've had the unfortunate dismay to encounter in all my life…with the exception of Angus."

"Hey!" said Angus.

Sam, however, was not deterred. "Was her name Ona?"

"She didn't give a name but if that's it, I think she should change her name to 'impish' and not 'graceful.'"

"So, is that what Ona's name means?" said Sam to herself. "I never knew that. Anyway, what did she say…or do?"

King Fin Varra heaved a big breath. "She shouldered a great burden on me is what. She wants me to keep a secret for her."

Sam furrowed her brow. "This is getting serious."

"Why?" asked Ivar.

"Well, first she tosses me across the parallels and when I tell her to leave, she obeys with no inexplicable reason, she doesn't tell me in advance that there was a deformed sentinel running amok and to make matters worse, she's now in violation of our treaty. Things do not bode well for my friend."

"It's a wonder you haven't got rid of her yet," said Ivar.

"Can't. She's an ally, one of the few that I have."

"Ally!" shouted King Fin Varra. "She's a menace! I don't know how you can live with her sense of frugality and…and destructiveness."

Angus raised his brow. "She sounds sweet."

Sam blinked. "If poisoned candied apples was your thing," she said. Angus shrugged.

"Oh, now I've remembered something!" said the king. They all looked down at him. "Before she left, that brat companion of yours said that you would find your way here, Sam. In which case, she told me to tell you that you won't have much longer to spend here."

"Why did she say that?"

The king pursed his lips. "I don't know. She spoke very enigmatically. I can't stand it when others do that."

Rohan nudged Ivar. He rolled his eyes.

"Your majesty," said Sam. "Did she say anything about another sentinel named Marock?"

He sighed. "No, no she didn't. When she spoke - and she did, at great lengths whether I wanted her to or not – she was very vague and gave few names. Of the one you mentioned she did not say. However, she did reference Mider."

"The bad fairy?" Sam asked.

"Yes. She said he had heard of the division amongst the sentinels and having known demons and sentinels, including her for quite some time…."

"Excuse me, did you say Mider knows Ona?"

"Oh, yes, of course. He has been in contact with that overzealous beast of burden for many ages. Why? Has she not told you?"

"Obviously not," said Angus, seeing Sam's utter blank expression.

Sam said, "The reason I ask, sir, is that the village of Kells has been emptied of its people by some serious power. I know Ona has a hand in this some how but I can't be certain. I was hoping you could shed some light on this."

"Yes, well, Mider has had his greasy hands into everything he could find that was powerful. We've all known this." The knights nodded. "Your friend is just another tool he has most likely been using for a long time now. I wouldn't be surprised; however, I cannot tell you for certain because with everything else I was told, I was not given specific details about anything. Good gracious, that thing was annoying!" he spat. "The next time you see that git," he said, pointing up at Sam. "You tell her off for me, you understand?"

"I'm ten steps ahead of you sir," said Sam with up most sincerity. She bowed low again and thanked him for his help. The knights exited with Sam in suit.

When they walked outside, the clouds had darkened and rain was imminent. "We'd better get back soon."

"Boy, he was an angry little pixie," Sam said.

"You should see him when Angus does something stupid," said Ivar. "Like just being there."

"I'm a victim of circumstance," shrugged Angus.

"What do we tell the king?" asked Rohan of Sam.

She blinked. "We tell him we'll get his villagers back."

"But we don't know where they could be or if they're alive," Rohan was saying.

Sam bit her lip. "If I know Ona, we may just have a hostage situation on our hands. And at this point, I'd rather not know her at all."

By dusk, they were soaked to the bone and finally had reentered the castle, now heavily decked with guardsmen on patrol. In the throne room, Deidre sat expectantly by her father, a look of contempt rupturing her face. Garrett stood on the other side of the king. He was a little worse for the ware.

'Please tell me you whipped him good,' thought Rohan as he glanced at Deidre. She looked at him and seemed to nod in response to his thoughts. "Your majesty," he bowed.

"What's the news?" said the king, standing.

"It seems Fin Varra has had a meeting with some sentinels already and they don't seem particularly helpful." He glanced at Sam.

As on cue, she stepped forward and clasped her hands behind her. "There may be a hostage situation, of which I am not certain just yet; however, my sources point to this as the most likely reason for the disappearance of the villagers."

"Hostages?" whispered the king. "Good God."

"I'm sure He's listening," said Sam. Angus shot a look towards her. Though she had lived a phenomenal life, it seemed odd that she hardly showed an interest in religion. It was an abstract idea to her that didn't quite fit her personality and yet when tidings were ill, she referenced God. She was either a hypocrite in order to be polite or she truly meant what she said, in which case she did have something to believe in. 'A lying hypocrite,' he thought with a small smile.

"We will find them, your majesty," said Ivar. "The power that was used could have left strong impressions in the surrounding area. If I'm right, those impressions could help us find where Maeve has taken your villagers."

It was assurances, not guarantees and every one in the room knew this. Still, they were currently without other options. "Yes, yes of course," said the king, waving his head. "Well, start working with what you have. My guardsmen are on patrol tonight but all of you," he said, including his daughter and Prince Garrett in his scan of the room. "Will work tonight. I don't want anyone having a wink of sleep until we have devised some plan."

"Of course, your majesty," said Garrett, walking to stand beside Rohan. This maneuver sent a visible clenching in Rohan's jaw. Sam noted this. Garrett was not an obvious favorite. He interfered too much already in the private lives here. He was just as separated as Sam…but she had managed to charm the knights, a king and his druid, maybe even the princess, all within a day. Garrett must have been here some time before Sam had arrived.

Sam yawned. She went over to the window and glanced outside. Rohan and Angus were just leaving.

With a small smile, Sam headed out of the room and down the hall.

Outside, the air smelled crisp, the added touch of after-rain. It was lukewarm and a gentle fog crept through the trees. Light had been vanishing quickly. When she finally reached the main village, the only light visible was the small fire built by Rohan and Angus. She hesitated. They were not outside so presumably they were in the hut, talking over those scrolls Rohan had presented to the king hours earlier. She walked towards a tree, sat down and rested her head against the wet bark. It felt replenishing to be with nature rather than away from it.

"_In 1803 we sailed out to sea,  
Out from the sweet town of Derry," _she began humming.

_  
"For Australia bound if we didn't all drown  
And the marks of our fetters we carried._

_In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our wains  
As our good wives we left in sorrow.  
As the mainsails unfurled our curses we hurled  
On the English and thoughts of tomorrow._

_Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry  
Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry._

_I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell.  
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight.  
White horses rode high as the devil passed by  
Taking souls to Hades by twilight._

_Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three.  
Our comrades we buried each morning.  
In our own slime we were lost in time  
Endless night without dawning._

_Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry_

_Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry._

_Van Dieman's land in hell for a man  
To live our his life in slavery  
When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law.  
Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery._

_Twenty years have gone by and I've ended me bond  
And comrade's ghosts are behind me  
A rebel I came and I'll die the same  
On the cold winds of night you will find me._

_Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry_

_Oh, oh, I wish I was back home in Derry._

She sighed.

"What was that?"

Sam started. Looking up, Angus's head peered over the tree.

She breathed. "Sneak."

"What good thief isn't?" he asked, coming around to stand in front of her.

"I thought you were a former thief." She raised her eyebrows.

He placed his hands on his hips. "Yeah, well, that's just the sort of thing everyone's willing to believe."

She breathed a laugh.

"What?" he said.

" 'Thou shalt not steal.'" She murmured.

"And?" he said.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to the tree. "You know your soul is damned to Hell if you steal."

"What is your obsession with religion?" he asked.

"It's not religion. It's common sense. If you do something wrong and you know you're guilty of it, you're just pushing yourself down. Your conscious is your Hell."

He thought for a moment with a hand rubbing his chin. "You know…that's just one thing I can never figure out about you."

She opened one eye. "What?"

"Your faith and your belief."

"Same thing."

"Not necessarily," he said. He sat down next to her. "Your faith in something comes from what you believe is not possible. Your belief in something comes from what you know is true."

"Wow," she breathed. "Did you just make that up?"

He paused. "Actually, yeah."

She punched his shoulder. "Liar."

"If I'm a liar, you're a hypocrite," he laughed.

"Yeah, I know." Her face saddened.

"Why do you put up with it?" he asked after a moment.

"Put up with what?"

"This…all of this hassle and stuff. Why can't you let someone else take your place?"

She looked in his eyes. For the first time, she was caught off guard. The firelight made his eyes glisten. It softened him, made him sincere. She almost caved but caught herself. "Well, why do you put up with being a knight? Why don't you just remain a thief?"

He thought about it. "I can't just leave my armor. How else am I going to attract the maidens?"

"I…don't know," she laughed. Then, they both laughed.

After several minutes had passed, Angus asked, "What was that you were singing?"

"It's a traditional song about some poor bloke from a small town in the Northern Country. He, along with some of his friends, is sent to a place called Australia. The English had turned it into a prison for criminals. Imagine that, an entire country a prison."

"Yeah, I can imagine that," said Angus.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, touching his arm. "I spoke before I thought."

"Nah," he shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first to do so."

"Angus," she asked.

"What?"

"Do you really trust me?"

"Yeah. So?"

He felt her hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes. It felt good. It felt – for lack of a better word – pure. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. She was smiling…mischievously. "Thanks." She stood up and shook her hair. He looked up at her and felt an immense feeling of attachment towards her. She smiled down at him and then turned around.

He frowned. "Where are you going?"

She tilted her head. "To Derry." Then, she began to hum that same song again.

Angus, smiling, stood, dusted himself and went back to the hut.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

**WRONG SIDE OF THE BED:**

The next day brought more troubles. Sam had not slept and felt a wreck. Her conversation was dry and minimal. Everyone learned quickly to back off as soon as she started scratching her head. Angus, however, did not know this about her until he saw her that afternoon in the courtyard. She was stretching. Angus leaned on a wall and watched, amused.

She sat on the ground with her legs spread apart and her upper torso leaning as far forward as possible. "If I could do that, I'd never leave home," he said, looking down at her with arms crossed. She grit her teeth and did not so much as flinch a smile.

'Not now,' she thought.

He leaned down and waved a hand in front of her face; a motion that greatly irritated her. "What?" she said.

Angus stepped back. "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"As much as I want to criticize you for such an awful use of a terrible cliché, Angus," she breathed, lifting herself up. "I can't because I didn't sleep anywhere so I couldn't have woken up on the wrong side of anywhere this morning."

"Ah, I see," he said, stepping back further. "Yup. You must have wiled away the hours thinking about me last night. That's why you couldn't sleep."

Sam shot up and had him pinned to the ground before he knew what was happening. "Angus…I have a bad headache because I didn't sleep. I have to help Ivar track down the location of Maeve's power and I have to find my friend Ona today and that requires me to take out my wings which I really shouldn't be doing because it really, really hurts. Just…ease up on me today, kay?"

He gulped. "Kay," he repeated.

She jumped off of him and climbed to her feet.

"Angus," said Rohan. "You were beaten by a girl?" A smile crept upon his face.

Angus struggled to his feet. "Now don't you start."

"Well that's not so hard to believe, now is it, Rohan?" asked Deidre. She placed her hands on her hips. She was no longer wearing a long gown. She wore a short skirt and knee-high boots and armbands.

Rohan fumbled with his words. "Oh, well, I was just saying, princess. I didn't mean…." He sighed.

Sam watched as the princess strode off, followed by Rohan desperately attempting to explain himself. She blinked. "Is it me or is Rohan…?"

"Yup," said Angus.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. She is too, matter of fact, but…."

"Let me guess, she wants to be in control and he does, too?"

He paused. "About last night…."

"Not now, Angus."

"But," he started.

"Later," she teased.

Suddenly, there was a screeching noise from far above. Sam shot her head up to the sky. A form was soaring down to the earth. As soon as it landed, Sam sent a punch to the back of its head. Ona staggered forward. She rubbed the back of her head. "Ow!"

"I hoped that hurt."

Ona glared at Sam. "Ow."

"Oh, get over it. It's not like it hurt."

"Physically, no it didn't."

"I don't have time for this. Where are the villagers?"

"Which ones?"

In Sam's right hand, a small sword appeared. Ona's eyes widened. "I swear I didn't do it."

"Talk," said Sam.

Angus was between them and he looked from one to the other, eyes just as wide.

"Talk or you lose something," she said, sword drawn and unmoving. Her hand was as hard as rock.

Rohan and Deidre had reentered the courtyard, tattered up a bit. They stopped in their tracks to witness the scene before them.

"I told you, I swear I didn't do it."

"Why didn't you tell me about Mider? Matter of fact, let's get this all cleared up right now. Why haven't you told me about anything?"

Ona shrugged. As with Angus before her, she didn't realize she was in a chokehold until it was too late. "Damn you," cursed Sam.

"Not before you," said Ona. Sam jerked back her arm and Ona gasped for air. "Ah, let…me…go."

"Talk."

"I…can't."

"Stop fucking around. Just talk."

Ona sneered. "I was ordered…to protect you."

"That's established but that's not going to keep me from shoving this blade up your ass."

"By Marock."

Sam frowned. She touched the tip of the blade to Ona's gut. The sentinel cried. "No, ah, please, don't do that. I hate this game."

"This isn't a game, Ona," Sam whispered.

"Good God," said Garrett. "What the Devil is going on?"

"Never you mind," said Sam. Ona's wings flapped in her face but Sam's grip was so tight, Ona only worsened her situation. "Why? Why Marock?"

"Same reason as always. He wants you…ah!" Sam had accidentally tipped the blade a little too close to Ona's gut and she bled. "I mean it, he wants you…stop it! He wants you to succeed. But there are those who are on his side who will willingly betray him so that you don't succeed."

"There's no telling if I will live long enough to succeed. Who are these people?"

"Some sentinels. One's named Knox, but you already knew that."

Sam raised a brow. "Oh, I think you know a little more than that. Why do you know Mider?"

"Who?"

Sam edged the tip closer.

"Okay, okay, Mider, right. Well, before I sent you here, I had to find out what kind of place this was. I found out through some allies that the legendary Mystic Knights had lived here and there was a war going on between them and Temra where Queen Maeve presides. Mider has had more influence among the sentinels than some of those dirty angels. I only served as a messenger so that I could spy on him."

"Funny, I don't believe you. Why is that?"

"Because you never have?" Ona choked.

Sam glanced over her shoulder and received many stares from the knights and the guardsmen. She turned the two of them around and said, "Here are the Mystic Knights, Ona. Why don't you say hello?"

"Hello," she said.

The knights were speechless.

"Ona, why don't you tell the Mystic Knights why their villagers have disappeared?"

Ona did not hesitate. "He wants their souls."

"The Devil?"

"Knox. He's very temperamental and thinks that by killing a couple of humans he can make a point within his own coven."

Sam sighed. "Goddamn it. This is just…twisted." She paused. "What did you say to Fin Varra?"

"Oh, how did I know you were going to say that? I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you, lest I be assassinated. You're being followed, too, so don't try to pry into this one."

"Thanks for the advice."

"I mean it."

Sam looked down at Ona. She pushed the sentinel away and relinquished her small sword. Ona fell to the ground and grabbed her stomach. She huffed. "Boy, someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"I didn't sleep at all."

"You shouldn't do that," said Ona. "It's bad for your health."

"Like you're not?" said Sam, stepping over her. She walked towards the knights. "Well, this case seems to get more complex the more we pry into it. How 'bout lunch? I'm starved."


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9

**Unknown:**

The day wore into a thinly clouded night and nothing seemed to have been accomplished. Ivar did not return to the castle until way past dusk and even he had nothing to share. Sam's headache had worsened so much so that she had to leave dinner early, stumbling up the steps to get to an empty room.

Angus had been in a daze from morning 'til night. Never before had he been so conflicted but at the same moment, everything seemed to make sense. 'I don't trust her," he thought. 'I may have said so, but I'm renown for lying. She certainly would not approve…but she's listened to my stories.' He shook himself. Then, he groaned. He was alone in the hallway, as he had excused himself from the night's work to take a break. Now, it seemed he needed a break away from his thoughts. 'She's not my friend but I trust her?' He frowned. His chest ached from so much beating in his heart. He gripped the handle to his mace as the chain dangled over his shoulder. He bit his lip. 'All right, all right. I'll just find her and…. No, that won't work. I'll just…she's not my type,' he resolved to himself and with that, he exited the hall and headed back to the throne room.

The next morning was groggy for Sam. A dull throb was all that remained. By the time she reached the throne room, lunch had already passed. Deidre offered her something from the kitchens but she declined. "You're going to make yourself sick," said Deidre. "You don't eat, you don't sleep."

"Love can make you sick if you keep it locked up inside," Sam said, almost without thinking about it. She had been burying her face into her hands. The only ones present in the room were the knights and they all looked at Sam as she sat at the table, caressing her face. When she looked up, she sat back. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, could you excuse me for a minute?" said Deidre as she bolted from the throne room. Rohan went after her.

Sam blinked.

"How are you feeling today, then?" asked Angus. "Stone-cold or just bitchy?"

She looked up into his eyes, once again caught off guard. She winced. "I'm just looking for the old lady with the bad tooth."

Angus chuckled.

Ivar hid his smile. Garrett, however, looked painfully stupid. "Is there something I've missed?"

"Your brain," said Angus.

Before he could retaliate, the king strode in the room, looking for his knights. Ivar explained that the other two were elsewhere. A guard was sent to retrieve them. The king noticed Sam. "Feeling ill are we?" he asked.

"No, your highness. Just dizzy, hot, light-headed, disoriented, dehydrated and just generally peeved."

"We've got something for that," said Angus.

"I didn't know you were in the market for drugs," said Sam.

"I meant my mace," said Angus. In emphasis, he dropped the ball on the table, snapping Sam to attention, who had been dozing off on her hand.

"I hate you," she groaned.

Garrett snorted. "Finally, someone's on my side for once."

"There are no sides here," said the king. His tone was dark. "Ivar, have you had any leads with Cathbad?"

"Only that the power that caused that massive bubble is hidden deep within Temra's walls."

"Well, at least we know it's Maeve for certain," the king sighed.

Rohan, followed by Deidre walked in. "Where have you both been?" asked the king.

"Patrolling," said Deidre. The king was involved in his own melodramatic stupor to really care about the truth anyhow. The hostage situation had left him feeling horrible.

"Your majesty," said Sam. Her outbursts were expected now. "We should move in today."

"I agree," said Ivar. "I mean, we know where the source of power is, generally speaking and we have troops ready to go in. We can't delay another day."

"Not unless they start talking," said Rohan.

Sam looked up.

"What have you got spinning in that brain of yours?" asked Angus.

"We get them to talk to us, negotiate like," he said.

After hours of deliberating and planning, Sam stepped outside into the courtyard to stretch. She arched her back and immediately shot forward, having a spasm fit. She breathed, allowing it to pass. When it did, she straightened herself and began walking towards the gates. However, Angus called out from behind her. "What do you want?" she said.

"Your money," he said.

"Ha," she said. "You want to walk with me?"

"I…thought you'd never ask." He held out his arm but she deftly ignored it.

"As I have told you, Angus, I'm no lady so you do not need to burden me with the dramatics."

He shrugged. "I was just being nice." She didn't respond. "You could thank me for trying."

She didn't smile or laugh. She continued walking. He followed her until they reached a small lake behind the castle. She stopped and stared. The water glimmered in the sunlight but that was not what she was staring at.

Angus leaned over. "Are…you all right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Angus, are you worried about me?"

"What! No, of course not!" he said, standing back. He crossed his arms. "I don't worry about you. I don't worry about anybody."

"Except yourself."

"Right."

"Angus," she said, much in the same tone she had several nights ago.

"What?" he said.

When she didn't answer, he looked her over to make sure she had not frozen. She merely stood, transfixed by something. "Angus," she finally said.

"Y-yes," he stuttered.

Sam was about to say something again but the momentary wave of disillusionment swept through her. She saw shadows, more of them. She was suddenly knocked off her feet and sent flying into a tree. She collapsed to the ground and moaned. "Oh, that sucked," she said as she ate a mouthful of moss.

Angus was by her side in a flash, grabbing hold of her arm and hoisting her to her feet. "What the hell happened?"

She got to her knees. "I…whoa." Sam held her head.

"Dizzy?" he asked.

"No, I'm not dizzy. It's the world that's crooked." She held his arm. "I'm pretty sure that was a spirit, which means…means we're being followed. Angus, help me to my feet." He pulled her up and held her steady as she swayed. "We've gotta go," she told him just before another spirit channeled through her and knocked her to the ground. This time she didn't wake up. Angus looked around, grumbling, though he himself was a little nervous.

"Great, I've got to carry you now, is that it?" he said over her. He had a momentary idea to throw her into the lake, which would, among other things, wake her up out of her stupor; however, this prank just somehow seemed childish. He didn't want to harm her.

He grit his teeth. "Ah," he breathed as he bent down to hoist her into his arms.

Sam stirred moments later and when she had realized where she was, she yelped, causing Angus to start and drop her to the ground. She crashed on her back and this triggered an involuntary spasm. "God," she groaned. "You're worse than Ona…and that's saying something."

She rolled on her side and crawled to her feet, Angus standing just above her. She looked him in the eyes, dark and heavy. Immediately she turned away and began dusting herself. "Like I said, we should get back to the castle. We're being followed."

'I was worried…about _her_,' thought Angus. He was unnerved by the thought.

She stopped walking away from him and glanced over her shoulder. Even in her sultry, catty demeanor, she still seemed vulnerable. That was what made her truly dangerous…and that is why Angus cursed himself for fretting over her. She didn't need help. She was self-reliant. She was in control and sometimes could best him at anything he could do, including comedy.

"Are you coming, master Angus or do I have to start carrying you now?"

"What's following us?" asked Angus.

Sam thought. "Presumably…ghosts."

Angus frowned. He glanced over his shoulders several times. He leaned in towards her and said in a low voice. "Are they watching now?" His eyes were darting all around.

For the life of her, Sam could not well guarantee if he was being serious or not. She pursed her lips and turned around, ignoring his question.

"Tell me something," said Angus, arms crossed. "How do you see these…things and no one else can't? Why should we trust what you say?"

She stopped. "Obviously me being tossed around like rag doll wasn't proof enough but very well," she sighed. "Do you really want to know how I can see sentinels even when they don't want to be seen? Like angels and demons?"

He shrugged. "Humor me."

"I died once," she said, her face falling. Angus didn't respond so she continued. It was one of the darker episodes in her life she would not have remembered had she not read the hospital records. "When I was ten, I was walking home from school and I knew something wasn't right. Everything just seemed…quiet. It wasn't a calm quiet. No," she shook her head. "It was that kind of timid silence where everything stops to pick up a sound, and the sound was so molesting, it could not be ignored." She began to walk and Angus followed. "Well, I wasn't paying attention and this accident could have been easily avoided…but maybe that car was meant for me. Maybe I was supposed to be slammed down on the pavement, perhaps to make me better hear the other side. Or maybe someone wanted me to grow up real fast. At any rate," she said, shaking her head again. "I was technically pronounced dead at 3:16 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-July. I had been resuscitated by the paramedics at 3:20 p.m. but what they don't tell you on the hospital records is that I had spent an eternity in those four minutes, saving, of all things, my soul."

She stopped and turned to look at Angus. "That's why I can see the dead…because I was, I am dead." Angus looked as though he wanted to speak but what does one say to something like that? "C'mon," she said. "I've had enough of story-telling for one day."

"Uh, yeah," breathed Angus. He furrowed his brow in confusion. "You…were dead?"

"Don't dwell on it," she said, pulling him by his arm.

* * *

"Angus, Sam," said Ivar. "Where have you been? The king has just ordered his army to begin their formations. We leave within the hour." His steely gaze was more focused on Angus.

"Oh, good," said Sam. "Have you determined which entrance to use?" she asked.

Ivar nodded his head gravely. "Yes, but unfortunately," he waved his hand, indicating for them to follow. "It won't be easy getting there. Nay, impossible."

"Impossible?" asked Angus with concern.

"Nah, he's probably exaggerating," shrugged Sam.

"You should talk," said Angus. "You're the one with wings."

"Lest we forget, dear friend," said Ivar, "Rohan's been to see Pyre, which is why he has not yet returned in some time."

"Pyre?" asked Sam.

"A dragon," Ivar said.

Sam choked back her surprise. "Oh…a dragon."

"You know," said Angus, "Those enormous rats with wings that breathe fire and scare away all the villagers."

"Really, Angus, I'm sure she's heard of a dragon, haven't you milady?" asked Ivar.

But Sam had been staring at Angus. When he glanced back, she began shaking her head.

"What?" he said.

She laughed. "You're such a child. C'mon Ivar. I wanna see those blueprints of the Temran castle. I think I can provide you with some useful skills." She strode on ahead into the castle.

Ivar was smiling. He looked at Angus. "I think I'm beginning to like this girl," he said.

Angus smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Says you and the entire frippin' castle."

'But not me,' he thought. 'Nope. Definitely not me.'


	10. Chapter Ten

Note: "A mulatto, an albino,a mosquito, my libido! Yea... Entertain us!"

Chapter Ten

**Battle! Part 1:**

The troops were lined up, armed up and ready to march and in front of them, serving as officers, were the five Mystic Knights. Their armor had not been called on just yet. It was a long trek to Maeve's castle and the Kells army had planned on making several stops along the way to rest and regroup.

Sam had lagged behind, studying the skies. There was a general sense of anticipation, as if the world was holding its breath, as if all the air had been sucked out of this green land escape. Again, Ona was not to be found.

Sighing, Sam turned back around to watch as the formations began to move out. Ahead of everyone were the Mystic Knights. For three days, the knights had had an unrelenting influence on her. Perhaps it was because she was getting older, but it felt as though she was starting to lose grip with herself. She was seeing ghosts again and not only that, they were contacting her. Ghosts fed on open-minds. It seemed to Sam that she had been doing a poor job of keeping that part of her mind closed to the rest of the world.

She stirred herself from her thoughts to see that the formation was already beginning to move. With a last glance at the Kells castle behind her, Sam followed the soldiers as they all moved as one beyond the kingdom's outskirts.

By the first pit stop, the troops were still in good order except for the occasional mundane argument over food supplies. Rohan had strayed from the rest of the group in order to take in the miles to the Temran Castle. The thick forest broke apart along the pathway, which they had been cautiously avoiding though maintaining an avid watch on it as they traveled. As they came closer to their destination, it would be harder to travel by this road without the danger of being seen. They would also be moving under darkness and Rohan knew they would have to forgo the use of campfires, lest they be seen. 'It's going to be a very cold night,' he thought.

As he glanced over the troops, fifty or so in all, he recognized many of their faces. They were good people; they didn't deserve an early death but life thus far had taught Rohan to accept death rather than fear it, no matter when it came. He just wished that the others had learned this lesson as well but it was something he would never know, something he would just trust. Then, he saw Deidre coming towards him. He shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded down to her.

Her lips were tight and her face seemed strained with constant anxiety; however, she would not admit it. Rohan admired her strength, this inner rebel that fought off young suitors, that fought off her marriage alliance to an arrogant prince, and that had apparently caused her to fight off the crown as well. If her father ever desired a son, he was still just as blessed with Deidre…and her pride.

When she came up to him, she crossed her arms and looked up at him with cold, determined eyes. "Why have we packed so little essentials? The troops are starting to get worried that you've let your ego rule you to think that we can accomplish this task in less than two days."

Rohan was well accomplished with her tempers. "It's not ego, princess," he said. "We've got an advantage over Maeve, one she hopefully has not got wind of yet."

"Sam," said Deidre with a raised brow. She paused to think. "What makes you so certain she is an advantage? She's just one person."

He formed his words with a tender care, hoping to not sound overzealous or too trusting of the situation. After all, they had only known this stranger three days, but Sam had vowed to prove herself to the king. That alone was an advantage. But the wings were helpful. "It was only I who fought off my guardian to retrieve my armor. Same with you and Angus and Ivar and…Garrett," he added softly.

Deidre did not relent, however. "It was a fair match. You're expecting a one-against-one-thousand situation. Tell me that's fair…or for that matter not dangerous."

"Princess," Rohan said. He paused. "Deidre," he said, leaning up against the tree next to him. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one. It's not like we had the time or the supplies to generate a well-bred army. We have to make due with what we got and I say with what we've got, we have a shot to save those people." He paused. Then, a broad smile appeared on his face.

She frowned. "What?"

"You're jealous."

"I resent that!" she said, stepping back, looking every bit appalled.

"It's true," Rohan shrugged.

"I am not…I am not jealous," she whispered, as she caught glares from the other soldiers. "I mean, how can we put all our trust in a stranger who battles with demons for a living?"

Rohan didn't have an answer. What he did have was an idea. "We let her show us."

"How?"

"Well…that's up to her, now, isn't it? Do you think she'll give us up to Maeve as soon as we get there? I don't know." He sighed. "But I think we should at least give her a shot. She is on our side…for the moment anyway."

Deidre 'hmphed' and shook her head. Rohan smiled at her temper.

In the silence of the night, when the wind was blowing cold, the army heard creatures in fright, running from the castle grounds. They had trekked since their last rest stop and did not pause. Rohan had decided that they would attack at dawn. The army would serve as a distraction while the knights and Sam would find their own means of entering. The only trouble lay in where the actual people were being held captive. Rohan never liked this plan from the start; however, he considered that the villagers did not have much time anyhow if Kells army was attacking. Supposing that Maeve had desired to put up a ransom, there would have been a messenger of some kind. Of that, Rohan could not be entirely sure then. It was always a shuffle with Maeve. No two battles were fought on the same grounds, at least not by the same conditions.

He had called upon Aideen, the Tir Na Nog fairy who had given up her home to aide Rohan and his knights, and who had also been scanning the coastlines for days on end to check for spies rumored to be there. She returned, a little breathless, but as ecstatic as usual. "Yes, Rohan," she said in her small voice.

Though small she was, Rohan immediately recognized how the fairy ignored Deidre on the spot. The fairy was mad for him but could not do a thing about it…even if Deidre wasn't in the way. He looked at her with a keen eye. "What have you found at the castle?"

"The villagers are not anywhere outside, although there could be dark magic being used as a cloaking spell. I'm not so sure stampeding straight in the castle would be the best way," she added as an undertone.

"I know," he nodded. "But we need to get those people out of there. There's no telling what Maeve could do."

Suddenly, a soldier came trampling down through the campsite and nearly crashed at Rohan's feet. The two knights helped him to his feet. He panted, "Sir, Temran soldiers have been spotted."

"Where?" said Rohan.

"Up the hill. There's at least a hundred of 'em but in the darkness, no one can tell for sure."

Rohan nodded. "Thank you," he said as the soldier ran off towards the other groups. Rohan thought to himself for a moment.

"Rohan," said Ivar as he strode through the campsite.

"Ivar?" asked Rohan, squinting in the darkness.

"Yes, it's me."

"Ow, watch it! My foot!"

"Oh, I'm sorry milady. I did not realize you were there. You breathe softly," said Ivar, stepping back. He could barely see the outline of Rohan and Deidre against the tree trunk. "Rohan, we have to distract these soldiers. We can't put ourselves up against them now. We need to reserve our strength."

"I know," said Rohan. He breathed. "A distraction? What d'you think?"

"How 'bout a thief bribes them out of the way?" suggest Garrett from out of nowhere.

Rohan frowned though no one could see. "Leave Angus out of this."

"Well, it's nothing new to him is it? I'd be willing to bet that old dog could pull it off. It would show he's got something other than pick-pocketing skills to honor his kingdom."

"I'll have you know that Angus is ten times the honorable man than you are or will ever be," said Deidre.

"She's right," said Rohan. "And you would do best to keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing of…sir," he added.

Suddenly, there was a crack of twigs as a person approached. "So, ladies and gents, what have I missed?" Angus said as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them warmly.

"A lesson in humility," said Ivar.

"Oh good, nothing too important," said Angus.

"And that Temran soldiers are heading this way, which has obviously skimmed passed your supposed cunning intellect. Funny," said Garrett. "I thought thieves were well accustomed to the darkness."

"We are," said Angus. "And how do you know I haven't set a trap already near the oncoming soldiers?"

Rohan smiled but Deidre fumed. "You did what?" she whispered for fear of losing control over her voice. "You could have been seen. At the very least, you could have warned us first."

"Now, now, fair princess," he said. "Ol' Angus boy has got a few tricks up his sleeve that not even Rohan knows about. But an old thief never gives up his secrets to just anyone."

"Apparently, they don't," said Rohan, peeved that he couldn't have been informed of this earlier.

"So what have you done?" asked Ivar.

Angus thought for a moment. Then, he grinned. "Come with me and see for yourself."

Minutes passed by before they were crouched behind thinly settled trees, the basking glow of the nearly full moon threatening to give away their cover…just the sort of conditions a former thief fell victim for. Angus seemed to quiver in his boots with excitement.

"All right, Angus," whispered Rohan. "Are you gonna tell me what you've rigged in this near impossible predicament?"

"Shhh," said Angus. "Just wait. Okay, you see those soldiers just over the ridge," he pointed. Rohan nodded as several heads of soldiers appeared at the top of a hill. They were moving around, talking amongst each other, but not showing any real signs of battle. "Me and some of the other guys saw them just a little over an hour ago while we were scanning the area. One of them just happened to be walking our way so we ambushed him. Then, we got some answers out of him." Angus paused.

Rohan blinked. "And?" he said, anxious. "Answers like what?"

Angus smiled. "Like where to find the villagers."

"Where?" breathed Rohan.

"They're inside. Maeve's got them confined to her dungeons, four to each cell, which will make our lives a living hell because there is a different key to each lock and only she's holding them all."

"Right," said Rohan deflated. "So we have no keys."

"No keys…and no entrance."

"I thought you said that soldier gave you answers, not more questions."

"Patience, dear friend. Let me get to the good part." Angus licked his lips. "Okay, after shuffling him around a bit, he was able to tell us that dark magic enclosed the entire dungeon and her three-headed buffoon is guarding the outside."

"Maeve's dragon!" said Rohan.

"No, Torq," said Angus. Rohan settled down. "Anyway, he also made reference to a relic room in one of the towers, which leads straight down into the dungeon room. There's a hidden shaft that only certain guards know of…namely this kid we obtained and a few others scattered around the area. That shaft is big enough for one person. It's hidden on the inside of the wall. Which means no air for a certain amount of time but if one moves fast enough, it's just a quick drop."

"How quick?" asked Rohan, raising his brow.

" 'Bout three hundred feet."

Rohan's jaw dropped. "Are you insane? You can't just drop in there and…."

"Remember Sam?" he asked.

Rohan stopped. Then, it dawned on him. However, he frowned. "Do you think she'll be able to open her wings in there?"

Angus shrugged. "She says she can open 'em just about anywhere if she wants to." Angus paused. "Anyway, Sam volunteered to find the tower with the gaping hole at the top, climb through and reach the villagers."

"And what do we do?"

"Well, that's the other good news. Her fairy friend Ona appeared out of nowhere to tell Sam something about some of those sentinels. Of course, Sam, in her usual manner, was a little…annoyed as soon as Ona showed up but they managed to work out a plan for us."

"Which is?"

"Fight off the soldiers."

Rohan shot back. "Are you daft, boy? Do you know what we'll be putting our army against?"

"I know that. I'm not as stupid as you think."

"Prove me otherwise," he said.

Angus smirked. "You'll regret saying that." He paused. "Especially when our army increases tenfold…with sentinels."

"I thought Sam said she had to kill them all. Now they want to fight for us?"

"Ona's promised them leeway or something like that and anyway, these guys are willing to fight. They said something about…feeling bogged down by the centuries and needing some fresh air…whatever that means," shrugged Angus.

There was a brief pause between them both and then Rohan asked, "How is she going to get the keys?"

"Oh, trust me, she don't need any keys," said Angus, looking out towards the hillside.

* * *

Sam shook herself as though a dog would and the wooden chip pieces clanked to the floor. The dust settled and she sneezed. She shook her head. "'Sxcuse me. It's the dust," she said. Nothing made a sound. She looked around at each of the four people. "Oh, hi," she said. "Don't mind me, I'm just the roofer," she muttered, looking up at the gaping hole in the roof. She whistled. "Man, what a drop." She flexed her wings back and forth, sending dust flying. The people coughed. "Oh, sorry," she said.

"If you're gonna kill us, be quick about it," said an old man emerging from the corner. Dry blood crusted across his forehead.

Sam frowned. "Kill you? I'm not here to kill you," Sam said. Then, she glanced at her wings and then to the pistols in her hands. "Oh…oh, no," she breathed. "I'm not gonna kill you. You're not who I'm after."

"Don't you dare touch my daughter!" he shouted, blocking the door. "If you do, so help me God, I'll…."

"Don't drag Him into this. He's busy already."

"Geoffrey," came the voice of a young woman. "Settle down. I know who this is. She's with Rohan and his friends." The woman emerged, stout, small, eyes gleaming with watery, courageous determination. She wringed her hands in her skirts. "They must have sent you here to save us. But why wouldn't they come themselves?" asked the woman mournfully.

"They can't," said Sam. "No one else would have been able to come down through the tower like that and I'm the only one of them with a pair of wings. But don't worry," she said, raising her hands just as the young woman was about to speak. "They're…fighting the good fight outside…as a distraction." There was a pause. Sam glanced at the door where the old man still stood. She looked past him and through the barred peephole. Each door was presumably like this one and had a different lock, which required a set of various keys and Maeve had them. Sam walked to the door and looked out of the peephole. Their door was set probably somewhere in the middle. There were at least five doors on either side of her and ten more on the other side of the dungeon. "Where's MacGyver when you need him?" she sighed.

"Who?" said the old man.

Sam smirked. "Just a friend with unique escaping capabilities. But," she added, stepping back from the door. She surveyed the walls. "Unlike MacGyver, I carry a gun. Could you please step behind me?" she said to them all. "Crouch down and cover your heads."

"Why? What are you going to do?" said the woman.

"Give Maeve a run for her money,' said Sam. The woman shrugged and followed the others.

The cell was relatively long backwards. There was nothing in there, save for the rotting mice bones on the floor and the chains. The four villagers tucked themselves into the back of the room and protected their heads.

Sam had in her hand two pistols: one for Sentinels, one for the Daemons, who were never around anyway. On the highest setting, the firepower could blast a small hole through the trunk of an oak tree.

However, Sam was also running the risk of collapsing the tower overhead.

When she was about to set her first pistol to its medium setting, there was a loud clanking as guttural loud men came barreling down the stairs to the dungeons. A light bulb ignited in Sam's head in that instant and she whipped around to the villagers all crouched down before her. "Start screaming. Get their attention. Say that you're trapped in here with a monstrous creature."

"They won't…."

"Just do it!" Sam shouted over the noise now barreling down with the soldiers.

"Which one?" asked a gruff, fat man.

"I don't know. Maeve said it was the one sitting below the tower."

"I still don't understand how…."

"In here, it's in here!" shouted the old man through the barred peephole. His hands were grasping the bars.

"Get it!" shouted the fat man to the thin man. The thin man rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He fished out a skeletal key from within a hidden pocket. The door's lock clicked and he swung the door open wide, raising his sword high above his head…which gave Sam ample room to launch a pistol shot into his armor. He shot back across the room and collapsed to the floor. The fat man barely had a chance to run, but not that he would have gotten far anyhow. Sam glimpsed at him once but as soon as he was passed out on the ground, she immediately forgot his face. She went over to the thin man, took the keys from him and handed them over to the old man. "Open the rest of these doors as fast as you can. I'll get us a clear way out."

And then she left to go up the stairs.

As each door had been unlocked after several unsuccessful attempts had been made with the large enumeration of keys attached to the ring, more and more villagers were released, spreading relief throughout the people. There remained one more door to open. Sam was already at the top of the stairs, glancing beyond the doorframe, waiting for an ambush of some kind. There were torches flickering against the walls made of stone. It just looked like every other castle she had ever seen. Nothing about Temran castle resonated evil, the kind emitted from Hell, of course. It was just too cold, too obscure with protective spells and paranormal enchantments.

There were two hallways leading down dark corridors. Sam took the corridor to her left. She followed it for only a minute before she heard soldiers stampeding down the opposite corridor. She ran to the end of the hallway and hid herself up against the wall. Six soldiers in rust-crusted armor clambered down the stairs. Sam waited, listening for other footsteps.

The people had all been freed from their cells; however, their relief was immediately crushed as soon as six Temran soldiers came barreling down one by one. The people scattered back into one massive sheep-like group. They were cornered.

Sam crept behind the young soldier nearest her. As soon as she was close enough, she grabbed his mouth and punched his flesh where the armor didn't cover. He turned around and she landed a right hook in his face. The others soldiers whipped around and the fight began.

The last one to fall grunted and grabbed his stomach as he collapsed to the ground. She glanced at the villagers, approximately fifty in all, and inclined her head. "Up the stairs. Before we go, does anyone have a map?" she asked.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

**Battle! Part 2:**

A boy of around the age of twenty-three covered his face to put out the hot ashes that had been launched from Rohan's fireball. The boy fell to the ground and rolled around, screaming until the ashes dissipated. He sighed in relief. Just then, he felt his body jerk upwards into the air and as he soared over the battlement, he sighed, "Well, isn't this nice," just before slamming into an armored group of Temrans with spears.

There were many others just like him who had been picked up by a sentinel and "displaced." Those were Ona's orders: displace the Temrans. "And make sure they don't die. Just toss 'em," she had said while an older Temran squirmed and screamed under her arm. One sentinel asked her why. "It's a decent thing for Sammie."

They seemed equally nonplussed though it was agreed that the humans would not undergo severe harm unless otherwise ordered to do so. Thus, the sentinels were resolved to picking up Temrans at random and tossing them a couple of feet. This caused mayhem amongst the ranks…so much so, Torq, the general and right-hand of Maeve herself, rode out on horse to inspect the chaos.

Torq slid his weight off the horse and watched from a distance as the ranks of hundreds were crumbling bit by bit by half as much Kells soldiers. He growled. "Master of my destiny, what is happening?" Then, he noticed a devilish thing flapping scaled wings furiously in an attempt to land in the midst of the fray. He watched with wide eyes as this creature kicked and pushed until it had managed to secure two Temrans in its massive hands and yank them from the ground. It flew several feet and dropped them both into several other soldiers.

Torq snarled. He gripped his helmet and shoved it on top of his head. Then, he grabbed the reins of his warhorse, jumped on its back and turned it around to report back to the castle.

* * *

"I think it's working," said Garrett, sending three sharp blasts from his twin axes into random soldiers.

"Of course it's working, you git!" shouted Angus as he landed the spiked-ball tip of his terra mace into the shields of several Temrans.

"I wasn't talking to you," Garrett snapped. A soldier charged his way with shield and sword but he was ready for the attack. He sliced one axe across the soldier's shield and knocked him over with an elbow-butt to the head. The soldier fell to the ground.

"Thank God," Angus said.

"How are you holding up there, Ivar?" asked Rohan as he sent another fireball into the crowd.

"Better than ever," Ivar said. He spun his trident in his hands and sent a blast, which bounced off from soldier to soldier until five Temrans were on the ground.

"And you princess?" asked Rohan, turning to his left.

A swift wind erupted from her crossbow and leveled off oncoming targets. "If I was any better, I'd hurt myself."

Rohan smiled. It was something to be expected of Angus but when it came from the princess, he enjoyed her cynicism towards an enemy better than his friend's weakness for slapstick humor. The point about Deidre was she didn't try with her life to get a laugh. She just did. And most of the time, it was from him, Rohan.

"Watch yourself!" Ivar shouted.

Rohan jumped back just as an arrow tip nicked his armor. Spacing out was dangerous, he reminded himself as he sent several fireballs back to the longbow men. "Thanks!" he said to Ivar.

"Just pay attention and you won't have to," said Ivar.

A sentinel zoomed over their heads and released a screaming human to the ground.

Ona chuckled. She slammed her hooves against the ground and stood, admiring the scene. Nearby, the two knights in brown and in white were snapping snide comments to each other at every interval of the fight. Ona strolled over to them, as arrows whizzed through her body. Some of the soldiers frowned nervously. Those arrows could penetrate male…and yet it went right through these beings as though there was nothing there at all. She winked at one of those soldiers, who was gawking at her. He passed out.

Angus launched a few swings of his mace into the crowd and a horse was hit. It fell to its side, knocking its rider and pinning him underneath the weight of the horse. Ona winced. "Oof," she said to Angus. "Bit of a nasty shock for him, though, isn't it?"

He eyed her. "I'll say."

"Which one are you? Oh wait," she said, pressing a palm to her head. "You're the thief. Yeah, I definitely remember you."

"Oh really," he said, turning to face her. "And just why is that?"

Ona changed into her human form and presented herself a little too close to Angus. She looked him up and down and felt up his armor. Her face was breathing just inside his mask. He shuddered. Her breath was lingering but it was…evil. But the sensations she was giving him made him want to stop fighting and call off his armor. He shook himself. "Get back in line!" he shouted. "Or…do whatever it is you do." He turned back to the fighting, hoping she would take him seriously.

Instead, she leaned over his shoulder, giggling. "If I could, I would…."

Rohan glanced to his left and raised his brow. Angus was in the process of fending off a group of soldiers but a sentinel was speaking to him in his ear. All of a sudden, Angus whipped around and pushed her out of the way. "Where do you get off!" Rohan heard him scream.

Ona laughed and switched into her real form. The effect was sinister and Angus seemed to resonate his disgust throughout the atmosphere. Rohan frowned. The sentinel had obviously said something that would tick Angus off…which meant it had to be something concerning his intelligence or his ego. Or both.

Just then, there was a tumultuous battle cry from over the hill. A lone rider was poised gently upon a tall horse. The dark cloak wrapping the rider billowed in the wind. The knights as one knew immediately who it was that rode upon that horse. And they all as one shuddered.

'Maeve,' they all thought.

Another rider, squatter and heavier, rode beside her, presumably Torq. They cast eyes that which were darkened by none other than pure intent and that intent was nothing but full of evil. She alone sent chills to all who stood nearby. They did not have to turn to know that she was there. It was felt along the hairs of the soldiers' necks. Soldiers of both sides were equally unsettled.

The knights glanced at each other. Ivar spoke to Rohan. "Do you think she knows about the Sam and the villagers?"

"Sweet mercy, I hope not," said Rohan.

Upon her perch, Maeve's countenance dipped through the masses as a grinning poison. At her side she held her staff, which was topped off in the shape of ram's horns. It glowed a sickly green where the stone was set in between the horns and seemed to intensify as her eyes followed the flying sentinels sending off her soldiers. A flicker of a smile touched her cheek.

"Well," she said to her right-hand man. "You were right."

* * *

Inside, the castle had suddenly become…empty. Not of people, because certainly the queen would not authorize the evacuation of her entire castle. It only seemed empty because something of great influence had just left it or someone who was in possession of infecting power was ripped away and left behind a feeling of, for lack of a better word, relief. Sam breathed deeply. The queen was not here in her castle. She turned around to face the villagers. "Hold tight, I'm going to find us a way out."

Some people nodded but most were too nervous to pay any attention. Mothers gripped sons to their chests; several husbands soothed their wives; siblings kept each other vigilant. Sam nodded. She glanced at the old man, who she had first met in the cell. "Keep everyone here. I'm going to go around the castle and find us an escape route that leads us away from the battle outside."

The old man sighed. "Just…don't be too long," he said.

"Faster than a jack rabbit on a hot date," she muttered. She walked away and down the next corridor, there was an open window. It was small but she could fit. She dropped outside and turned around to soar up the wall of the castle until she could see above the roof. To her right, the battle raged on. She looked below. There was a courtyard but the gates were rigidly locked tight. But Sam did not hesitate as a result of this obstacle. It was the three-headed dragon guarding the outside that unnerved her. It was black and its scales glimmered purple in the moonlight. Although it was a magnificent creature, each of its jaws carried a dozen, feet-long teeth jagged and deadly. In no way could a sentinel pistol harm this dragon. Sam had supposed a dragon had some sort of protective spells contained within its scales. There were stories she read when she was younger that made a huge, resounding claim to this fact about mythical creatures. Only such creatures were real in this time and in this place.

She sighed. Sam hung her head and glanced to her left. There was the tower she had entered. She shuddered, remembering her flight over without having noticed the dragon below. "Hmm, another interesting quandary, wrapped in an enigma and decorated in a paradox of sorts," she said. After much mental deliberation, Sam hesitantly decided that she needed an extra pair of wings. The only means of escape that would not attract the attentions of the dragon or the soldiers and one that would bring the villagers to a safe destination point was to pull each and every one out of the castle and relocate them into the forest. "Just to let You know, I hate this," she said, looking up. 'Ona is an annoying twit,' Sam was thinking. At least, this part of the process could be done easily.

'Yes ma'am?' Ona thought back.

Sam paused. 'Get over here.'

'Where's here?'

'Uranus…just follow your instinct.'

'Righto, Captain!'

Sam closed her eyes. She crouched on the ramparts, remaining partially hidden by cracking foundation. Ona arrived within seconds. She was in her normal form. "You rang?"

Sam inclined her head. "The villagers. We have to yank them out like teeth from a dirty mouth."

"Nice one," said Ona.

Sam smirked. "How many wings can you get up here without causing too much of a distraction? Now, I'm serious, Ona. Don't give me a half-ass answer. We're really strapped tight for escape options and I'd rather not have to duke it out with a dragon."

Ona thought. "Four, five tops," she said.

This made Sam frown. "You sure you can't get at least two more?"

"How many villagers are there?"

"At least fifty."

"You sure?"

Sam thought. "I would have spent precious little time counting but I had thought better of it when they wanted to get out of this castle alive."

Ona rolled her eyes. "Hold on."

Minutes later, Ona appeared with one other sentinel. It was hairy and seemed tired. "This is Mackel. There will be others to follow but we're going to spread ourselves out so as not to seem too attractive."

"Not that you weren't already," said Sam.

Mackel groaned. "Where are the humans?"

"Follow me," Sam said.

* * *

One by one the villagers had been plucked out of the castle. The old man had protested, fearing for the life of his daughter, who hid within his protective embrace. However, he volunteered to go. He bade his daughter well and was taken to the edge of the window. Mackel gripped the old man under his arms. "Don't look down," said Mackel. "You'll scare yourself to death."

"Is that some sick, twisted joke?" asked the old man.

Mackel smiled, which bore several jagged fangs. "Divine humor. Pardon me," he said.

'Well, at least they're polite,' thought the man.

Ona picked up a young girl around seven years of age as well as the girl's brother, who was at least ten. Sam took a teen. They made this trip at least seven times before a third sentinel showed up and began taking villagers.

When they left the castle, they all went towards the protection of the forests and where there was a large opening in the canopy, the sentinels and Sam would soar down and drop off their passengers. Eventually, every single villager had been taken back from the castle and secured in the forest all while the battle still raged on. The sentinels returned to the fighting but Ona and Sam remained behind.

"How can we ever repay you all for what you have done for us?" asked the old man of Sam when they were all about to head off in the direction of Kells castle.

It was to this question Sam had blushed. "You don't have to repay me. This is my debt to humanity since I obviously possess none."

"Well, you're more human than that bitch who stole us from our homes!" he said. There was a quiet uproar in agreement with what he said.

Sam smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"Hey," he said. "I'm Collum Mclean," he said, thrusting out a dirty, old hand.

"Sam Fitzgerald," she said, shaking his hand.

"This is me daughter, Katherine," he thumbed to his left. A shy, pensive girl with brown hair bowed her head slightly.

Sam nodded. Just then, she felt something nudge her in the shoulder. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is Ona." She did nothing to indicate the sentinel hovering behind them.

Collum beamed. He shook Ona's hand. "And the same goes for you, milady."

"She's no lady, mark my words," said Sam.

He frowned. Ona grinned. "I have no gender."

"And no brain," Sam muttered.

"Well, still," said Collum. "Many thanks to you and your kind."

"Don't mention it," waved Ona.

Sam stopped walking. "I'm gonna head back now," she said. "You," she said fiercely, looking at Ona. "Protect these people. Screw this up and I'm sending you back."

"To the castle?" Ona snorted.

"To where you belong," she said.

"Mmm, aha," nodded Ona. "Right, well, these people are in good hands. You can bet on it."

"I hope."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Note: Obelisk the Tormentor!

P.S. Note: It's obvious that I want to write about a relationship between Angus and Sam yet keep her character's Constantine-esque manner the same. I hate it when female characters turn...girly. And I mean g-u-r-l-y. Yuck. However, I think I'm not doing myself a favor by intentionally slacking off on the other characters. I want that equal balance of other charcter input, like there was on the show. What do you think? Hello. Anyone? Am I talking to the wall again?

Chapter 12

**Battle! Part 3:**

"Nice of you to join us, friend," said Ivar as Sam approached them.

Both pistols were raised and ahead six Temran soldiers collapsed to the ground, dead. She walked up to him. "The villagers are heading back to Kells." She looked at Rohan. "You're people are safe."

"And you're so sure of that?" he asked, more out of anxiety than resentment.

"I'd be willing to make a wager over it," she said.

Garrett followed Angus and Deidre as they all met alongside each other. They still kept up their blockade of deadly firing as they discussed possible ways of ending this battle. "The sentinels have seemed to have kept their side of the bargain," said Rohan, sending a fireball into the fray.

Sam nodded. "I just hope they're not too disgruntled because they couldn't kill anything." A thick dust settled in the air and she coughed. "By the way, how nice of you guys to warn me about the three-headed dragon guarding the side entrance. Just make my life easier why don't you?"

Rohan glanced down at her. "Three-headed…you saw Maeve's dragon and it was just…sitting there?"

"Politely," said Sam. She sighed. "Can we go now?"

"Well, do you want to fight this battle on your own?"

"Is that a trick question?" she asked. "Just kidding," she chuckled. "Me? Take on an entire army, armed with just two pistols and a pair of wings? You're pulling my leg, Rohan, you really are. Ha," she laughed. "Sure. That'd be the day."

Rohan frowned. "Are you all right?"

Instead, she ignored him and strode ahead, firing off several rounds of her ammo. More soldiers were leveled off. She had accidentally sent one on fire but walked past him.

"I think that's a huge, resounding 'no,' my friend," said Angus, clapping Rohan on the back. Angus winced when he saw a soldier grab his gut, now just a hole. "That's a bruise!"

With the combination of Mystic Knights, sentinels, Kells soldiers, and Sam, the one-sided battle wasn't one-sided any longer. The Temran soldiers thinned and many retreated back towards the castle. When all had left, the Kells soldiers cheered and jeered. But the knights were still focused on the main cause of this battle.

Maeve's cape billowed in the air, a reflection of her silent rage. Rohan watched as Torq rode beside her and forced her back to her castle. 'Today you were defeated,' he thought, knowing she could not hear. 'Today, you will leave us alone. But for now.'

"Nice shooting," said Angus as soon as Sam walked back.

Sweat dribbled down her face and arms and she was panting. "Thanks," she sighed with a delicate smile. "I had a feeling today was going to be different."

"Oh, and like everyday is normal for you?" Angus said. His armor was off and his terra mace was slung over his shoulder. He thumbed the three-pointed hilt effortlessly, or attempted to make it look so.

"Define normal why don't you?" Sam said.

"Well, normal is…uh, well, it's…it's certainly not…uh, hold on, I'll have to think about that one," he muttered, lowering his head.

Sam chuckled. "It's all right. Don't think so much Angus," she said, clapping his back. "It gives you a headache."

"You can say that again," said Rohan from behind, laughing.

The others had caught up and were followed by the Kells soldiers. The sentinels flew elegantly overhead, silhouetted against the backdrop of the moonlight in the western horizon. It was presumably close to morning.

A sentinel with fair hair touched down on the ground in front of Sam. "My name is Roche. It is both an honor and a disgrace to meet you, friend and enemy Tyrannicidae." Roche's voice was mellow and went down deep into his throat smooth. He tilted his head and crossed his arms across his chest.

To have felt resentment was normal for Sam; however Roche's sincerity was an unexpected welcome. Sam had been moved. She sighed and stuck out her hand. Roche, expecting the relentless fury rumored from his slayer, was taken aback. He grinned, baring perfect teeth aligned brilliantly white against his dark skin. He took her hand and shook. "I can tell you that this is most definitely a first."

"I wish it didn't have to be the last," said Sam softly. Her eyes had suddenly saddened and her features softened. Angus had picked up on this and was reminded of several nights ago when she had touched his face. It was then he realized that she had not meant any caring in her touch, nor love of any kind. It was peace she sought because it was something she would never have. And to see it in someone else brought her a sense of longing and despair that panged her heart. Angus understood this and for the first time in his life understood as well that not all warrior-queens from mysterious lands are handsome and strong, sharp and sly and longing for a man with similar characteristics. This just absolutely crushed his ego on the spot.

Roche nodded. He let go of her hand and both of their arms fell to their sides. "When Marock said you were in need of an army, we knew what had to be done, despite our unofficial, binding contract." He raised his brow and Sam glanced down, understanding every word he said. "There is much more to be said between our sides; however, the time for talking is gone. We are too close to our borders and these threats against us are hurting our numbers."

Sam frowned. "Threats? Do you mean Knox?"

"Yes," said Roche. "We found where he has hid…but," he added, tilting his head. "You already knew he wasn't here, I think."

Sam crossed her arms. "The thought had crossed my mind. While I was in the dungeon looking for their villagers," she thumbed behind her to Rohan, the Mystic Knights and the Kells soldiers. "It seemed as though all of the power was contained within one area…or person. And when that person left, the power went with it. And besides, that power was much too weak to even be near what Knox has in store."

Roche sighed. "He likes camouflage. We are seeking him out but it has become progressively harder to distinguish between our allies and those spies sent by all the Divinity."

"I suppose that could be partially my doing," said Sam. "After all, I tend to break apart all of your little rebel meetings. It's no surprise you guys are all disoriented."

"And for that I have reason enough to battle with you here and right now," said Roche. He held up a hand to Angus's sudden protest. "However, young human," he added with a hint of scathing annoyance in Angus's direction. "I am far too spent to do any more battling for today." He paused. "And I have definitely been apart of too many battles of yesterday to want to seek out more in the future."

Sam smirked. "Thanks. You and your friends will be granted leeway and no harm shall befall upon you while I am in your presence. Is that understood with your ranks?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, bowing.

Sam shook her head and laughed. "You're a friend now Roche. My friends don't have any need for bowing."

Roche raised his head. He suddenly glanced at the other Mystic Knights. "Your armor is majestic…but not so much as your skills. You have definitely earned your keep," he added.

Rohan was flattered. Deidre hid her smile. Garrett, however Ivar tried to nudge him beforehand, spoke. "Why thank you, kind creature of the night. And let me tell you that it was not only our fine skills that had given us our armor but a sharp intelligence, which had saved us all at some point during our individual quests…Angus especially," he added, pointing to the mangy-haired thief.

Roche looked at Angus with mild interest. "I see. Well, in that case, you must have earned your keep doubly, then. Congratulations."

Garrett's face fell. Angus glanced at him and made a face.

Just then, Roche walked around Sam and stopped in front of Ivar, who looked up at the tall sentinel with a cool demeanor. Roche eyed the human…then he eyed the weapon the human carried. Roche breathed. "By Jove, I have not seen a trident so well crafted in ages. Why, it reminds me of my years serving the Gates."

Ivar, uncertain of what to say, though flexible in his impassive facial features, said, "It is a trusted companion of mine and has been through many a battle with me."

Roche stared fondly at it. "Take care of her. She is your destined piece, your one true love if you never find one in the human species," he mused. "She is…for lack of a better word…incredible."

"Well, I thank you for your kind advice," breathed Ivar.

Roche looked at him. Then, he smiled and stuck out his hand. "I trust you will take it to heart."

"Aye," said Ivar, shaking Roche's hand.

"If not, you know I will return." It was a warning, one that Ivar felt inclined to heed albeit humorously.

"Of course," he said.

Roche nodded. "Very well." He turned around. "Humans," he bowed to the Mystic Knights. "We thank you for your courage in us. However, we can stay no longer. Our journey to nether worlds calls to us. Tyrannicidae," he said to Sam. "When I find Knox, I will send word."

"Same here," she said.

Then, Roche stepped back away from the rest of the humans, flapped his wings and shot up into the night air, disappearing immediately. The other sentinels followed, cloaking themselves as they took off.

Everyone stared after for several moments, all in silence. The weight of Roche's words was heavy in Sam's hardened heart and she found that there was some room for acceptance if only for a short while.


End file.
